


Life with Derek: Bohemian Like You Remix

by unoriginal_liz



Series: Five (+1) Rooms with a View [1]
Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Casey Venturi, Derek McDonald, F/M, Lifeswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unoriginal_liz/pseuds/unoriginal_liz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt-based AU.  Derek McDonald's mom falls in love with Casey Venturi's dad.  </p>
<p>"I'm being forced to share a room with my new stepbrother, a bathroom with my entire – and mostly new – family...and I'm even expected to share a locker at my new school." He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "I <i>refuse</i> to share anything else – and that includes my feelings."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was in inspired by a prompt moirariordan left on fanprompted. The prompt goes - _Remember the old 'Derek's a keener, Casey's the player' cliche? Well, try it again - switch their lives, literally. Derek McDonald, son to Nora and brother to Lizzie, moves in with Casey Venturi, daughter of George and sister to Edwin and Marti._
> 
> Also part of five and a half LWD AUs I wrote that were (mostly) riffs on 'The Room' (episode, not Tommy Wiseau film!) and how differently/similarly it would've gone down if...

_**"Derek's popular. Sometimes I wish I could be like him. Slack my way through school, not care about my grades..."** _

_**"Really?"** _

_**"No, not really. But I'm still the new kid in school."** _

*****

Paul Greebie cleared his throat, and finally broke the silence. "You know," he observed, "this might go better if you...spoke."

Derek McDonald stared back at him challengingly. "I'm protesting," he said.

Paul looked at him. "...why?"

Derek leaned forward. "I'm being forced to share a room with my new stepbrother, a bathroom with my entire – and mostly new – family...and I'm even expected to share a locker at my new school." He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "I _refuse_ to share anything else –and that includes my feelings."

Paul blinked at this. "O-kay," he said. "Wow...it sounds like you're under a lot of pressure."

"No, the problem is that I'm being _com_ pressed." Sharing his feelings might have been a problem, but Derek apparently had no hesitation airing his grievances.

Paul frowned. "I'm...not sure I follow."

"I mean I'm considering bringing a pillow to school because there's more room in my locker than in my bedroom – and there's _no room_ in my locker!"

"Okay..." Paul considered this for a few seconds. "So...this is a space issue?"

"No. Well, maybe a little," Derek conceded. "But mostly, it's a _territory_ issue."

"Maybe you should start at the beginning," Paul suggested.

Derek thought. "I guess it all started a few months ago, when my mother went out on a blind date and decided that the feeling in her stomach was butterflies, and not _acute food poisoning."_

"We probably won't get through all that in one session," Paul cautioned.

Derek sighed. "Fine. Then – take this morning for example..."

*****

"Good morning, Derek!"

The only logical response was to sit down at the kitchen table and bury his face in his arms, because it was _not_ a good morning.

A cat-eared Marti took the opportunity to lean over and hiss in his ear, and he cracked open an eye to glare at her. It didn't appear to have any effect, as she composedly began to lick the back of her hand.

"You know what I think might help with the first day jitters?" his mom said, smiling encouragingly at him.

"If you're going to say 'a shower' – don't," he said, voice muffled. "As per usual, the Princess is hogging the hot water."

"Yeah, she does that," Edwin said, matter of factly, through a mouthful of cereal. "Don't worry – you'll get used to it. Actually, I find it's a great excuse to neglect personal hygiene." He looked between Lizzie and Derek and clarified, "I don't bathe very often."

Lizzie made a disgusted face, while Derek said, "Yeah. I noticed. Remind me to thank the Princess for that one, too."

"Derek," his mom admonished, "Don't call Casey that."

"Why not? George does." He looked up and gestured at his stepdad. "It's a sign of affection, right, George?"

"It – can be," George said carefully, amusement in his tone.

"Yes, well, it – sounds different when George does it."

"Maybe it's because he doesn't clench his teeth when he says it," Lizzie added. She watched as he poured cereal into a bowl, and passed him the milk.

"Thanks," he said absently.

"Anyway!" his mom clapped her hands together, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I've been feeling...kind of guilty. I've been so busy the last couple of days and I feel like I haven't been there for you" –

Derek used the unwashed thing to his advantage, and tried his best to look even more pathetic.

"– so I thought, how can I make it up to you? And I decided that I'm going to make your favorite 'Mom-special' for lunch!"

He regarded her with trepidation. "Mom, that's...really great, but" –

"Store bought!" she reassured him. He brightened. "Just give me a couple of minutes to throw everything together."

This was of course, the moment that Casey made her entrance, shiny haired and fragrant. "Good morning everyone!" She breezed over to the table and scooped out a handful of cereal from the box. "Wow, dad – I wasn't expecting to see you here," she said.

"Why – should I be having breakfast with another family?" George joked.

Casey smiled. "No," she said patiently. "But...shouldn't you be taking Marti to school right about now?"

George glanced at his watch, before hastily getting to his feet.

"Cats don't go to school!" Marti protested, as she was picked up. Casey proffered George's briefcase and received a kiss on the temple and a "Thank you, Princess," in return.

She watched as he made his way out the door, before turning to her brother.

"And Edwin – shouldn't you be getting ready? You don't want to leave it till the last minute."

"I don't?" Edwin said.

Casey fixed her eyes on him and stared, unblinking.

"Of course I don't," he repeated, and scrambled from the table.

Casey took his place. "So, Lizzie," she said. "First day at a new school – how are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," Lizzie said politely.

"Don't worry – I've asked Edwin to take care of you," Casey assured her.

"Are you sure Edwin's qualified to 'take care' of another living being?" Derek asked. "As his room-mate, I can tell you he has trouble taking care of his pet rocks."

Casey ignored this. "And how about you, Derek? Excited?"

"Oh, yeah," he said flatly. " _Another_ new experience. I can hardly wait."

"With that kind of can-do attitude, I'm sure you'll be fine," Casey said, raising her eyebrows.

"Look on the bright side," his mom said. "I mean, maybe this new school will work out really well."

"Yeah," Lizzie agreed, "You might even be popular there!" At the look on his face, she backtracked hastily, "Not...that you weren't popular in your old school."

Casey raised her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, we really should get going, if we want to keep to the schedule, Derek. And – speaking of schedules, Nora..."

His mom immediately stopped what she was doing (constructing the first layer of a triple decker sandwich for Derek's lunch) and stiffened. Casey appeared not to notice this.

"I can't help noticing that you've fallen behind with the washing and cleaning schedule I gave you" –

"I have? Again?"

"You seem a little overwhelmed – no offence, Nora" –

"None taken," his mom said, sounding somewhat dazed.

"So I've taken the liberty of drawing up an emergency 'Get Things Back on Track' plan." Casey handed over a sheet of paper to Nora. "If you can organize a whites-wash this morning, that should take care of the bulk of the problem, and I can run through the original schedule with you again later. How does that sound?" The tone of her voice indicated that the question was a mere formality.

"That sounds um...great," Nora said. "I – really appreciate all the...help...you're giving me, Casey."

"Almost as much as we _all_ appreciate the _slack_ you're cutting us," Derek said, as Nora began scanning the list Casey had handed her.

Casey smiled perfunctorily. "Derek, we really should be going, so if you're ready" –

"Yeah, I don't have my lunch yet." He turned to Nora. "Mom?"

"Hmm?" she glanced up from her reading. "Oh! Yes! Your lunch!" She looked wildly around the kitchen before grabbing a bag of crackers and pushing it into his hands.

He looked at her. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he hinted. She looked at him with a pleading expression on her face – the same expression she had when she first presented George to him – a 'just go along with this…for my sake' kind of expression. And despite the fact that _nothing good_ had come of that expression so far, Derek caved. As usual.

His shoulders slumped and his mom, sensing victory, swooped. "Thanks, sweetie." She reached out and caught his face in her hands. "Have a great first day at school," she said, and kissed his cheek. She patted his shoulder absently, before hurrying out of the kitchen.

"Well, now that you have that all-important goodbye kiss, can we please leave?" Casey asked. "Unless you _want_ us to be late on the first day?"

*****

"...so, the problem is that your stepsister is – being helpful?" Paul asked.

"No – the problem is that she's being _controlling_ ," Derek emphasized.

"Are you sure? I mean, maybe she's just trying to help your family settle in."

Derek got to his feet, and started digging in his pockets. He unearthed several pieces of paper, and began unfolding them. " _Here_ is a copy of our weekly menu. _This_ is the grocery shopping schedule. And this one here," he tilted his head before turning the piece of paper the right way up, "is a _cross-referenced_ chore list."

He laid the papers across Paul's desk with a flourish, and looked at Paul expectantly.

"That is...very thorough," Paul admitted. "But did you ever consider that maybe this is just the type of person your stepsister is? I mean, maybe all _this_ ," he gestured towards the various schedules and lists, "isn't necessarily a personal critique."

"Oh believe me, it's personal," Derek said, eyes narrowing. "It's _very_ personal."

*****

"– have to get you a locker, then I can introduce you to Sam, my boyfriend. He'll show you around. Then, at lunchtime, we can all meet up in the cafeteria and I'll introduce you to" –

"Okay," Derek held up a hand. "You're talking like we're going to be hanging out together."

"Won't we?" Casey asked, raising her eyebrows.

Derek stared at her. "Give me one reason why we would."

Casey looked at him like he was an idiot. "Well...because – not to sound conceited or anything, but – I'm kind of popular." She shrugged with fake-modesty.

Derek just looked at her.

"And if you want to get in with the in-crowd, which I assume you do...you're going to have exploit your connections." She stopped for a second, but apparently couldn't resist the temptation to point out the obvious. "That would be _me_."

"So you're going to help me become popular," Derek said sceptically.

Casey looked him up and down. "Well, it's not as if you stand a chance on your own."

He folded his arms and stopped walking. "And why not?"

She snorted. "Oh please, Derek. Let's go through your resume. First of all, you're the new kid, and it's pretty hard for a new kid to break into an already established social hierarchy. Next, while _I_ would describe your academic record as 'solid'" –

He narrowed his eyes at her. His academic record was way better than _solid_ (something that he credited to attending an all-boys school, and study helping to take his mind off that fact).

"– others are going to take one look at your A average, and assume that you're a keener. Plus, it's not like you have any valuable extracurriculars that would make you stand out at JS Thompson High – no hockey, no football, no...debate club."

"I used to play hockey," he found himself saying.

The superior expression on her face didn't change. "And I'm sure you quit because you were just _too good_ at it."

"Something like that," he said, because there was no way 'I quit in a pathetic attempt to get my dad to pay attention to me, since being awesome didn't work as well as you'd think,' was coming out of his mouth.

"Face it, Derek, without my influence, all those factors add up to you being the polar _opposite_ of popular." She took a step closer to him, and said, "You _need_ my help."

"No," he disagreed, staring her down. " _You_ need to organize me – because you can't stand the idea that there's something – or some _one_ – who's not under your control. Because everyone needs to bow down in front of Queen Casey, right?"

Popularity, if it came with the price tag of being Casey's toady, was unacceptable. He'd prefer to take his chances as Derek McDonald, nobody, if it meant compromising his already compromised independence.

So he took a step, so that they were almost nose-to-nose, and stared her down. "Well, your Majesty…I'm not kneeling," he informed her.

Even though neither of them was under any illusions about how the other felt, it was satisfying to actually let loose the naked hostility. The funny thing was, they didn't even need to hurl insults – just let it all hang out there with a challenging look, tension ratcheting up and up with every second they refused to break eye-contact. If he wasn't so busy trying to win the stare-off, he might have ( _might have_ ) felt a flicker of admiration for the core of sheer determination that obviously lurked beneath Casey's pretty-girl façade. He'd guessed she was a tin-pot dictator from the schedules and the organising and the obsessive list-making, but circling her now, he could see that he had been off the mark. Casey was a solid-steel adversary. The realisation almost took his breath away, but he didn't let it show, just kept all his concentration focused on meeting her eyes.

"Okay. Fine," she said finally, matching the low threat of his last words. "You want the truth? My home is like my kingdom – calm, peaceful, orderly. Everything was _finally_ running smoothly until _your_ family showed up – now, suddenly, there's chaos! No-one follows the rules anymore – no-one does what they're supposed to!"

Her gaze hardened. "But you know something? As well-intentioned and nice as the _majority_ of your family seems to be, I refuse to let _my_ perfect kingdom be sabotaged by unruly invaders. So you've got two choices. You can fall in line, _or_...prepare for execution. Metaphorically speaking, of course," she clarified hastily.

She took a step backwards, attempting to regain her cool. "The offer is open, Derek. What's it going to be?"

*****

"That _does_ seem kind of personal," Paul agreed.

"She laid it right out for me," Derek said. "I mean, agree to being treated like a second class citizen in my new home, or...fight for the equal status I deserve."

"I'm guessing you're going with the second option," Paul said.

Derek shrugged. "What other choice do I have?"

"Well, you could talk to Casey – I mean, it sounds like you're both dealing with the same problems. You might find you have more in common than you realize."

Derek regarded him sceptically. "I have nothing in common with Little Miss Pep Squad" –

"You might be surprised," Paul said.

"Besides," Derek continued, ignoring him, "It's already _on_."

*****

As Derek tried to cram his books into his locker, under the watchful eyes of his locker-mate, he contemplated fate's cruel sense of irony. Apparently it wasn't enough that he had to share a bedroom and a bathroom at home, now he even had to share his _locker_.

Derek wondered when personal space had become an unimaginable luxury.

Suddenly, he stopped and said, "This isn't going to work."

"Well, maybe if you put some actual force behind your pushes, it would help," his locker-mate (who was so scrawny it looked like the only thing keeping him upright was _worry_ ) suggested helpfully.

Derek stared at him. "Okay," he said, "Or maybe you could move some of your books? I mean, I'm sure you don't need _all_ of them." He squinted at some of the titles. " _Bleak House, Hard Times...War and Peace_? None of these are even on our syllabus – we're not studying any of these."

"No...but _she_ is," his locker-mate sighed.

Derek looked at the small mountain of literature his locker-mate had managed to jam inside a very tight space, and blinked. "She'd better be worth it," he said.

"She's the most beautiful, intelligent, amazing" –

Derek held up a hand to stop him, only to hastily put it back down as the pile of books in his arms began to slide. "Yeah – okay, I think I get it. But – I'd be willing to listen to it anyway... _if_ I could get some space for my stuff."

His locker-mate regarded him. "Deal," he decided, and began pulling out hardbacks.

Derek took two steps backwards...and bumped into someone, precipitating a heavy fall of books.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, as he bent down and began picking up his stuff, "Are you" – he looked up, and blinked, "...really cute?"

"I...hope so?" the girl he'd bumped into said, smiling. She offered him a book. "Emily Davis, hi."

"Hi," he said back.

She looked at him expectantly.

"Derek!" he remembered. Then, more calmly, "Um...I'm Derek McDonald. I'm new."

"I thought you might be," she said. "First day, huh?"

"Yeah." He'd already tried to update his mental expectations for 'girls' from 'abstract concept' (all-boys private school) to 'material reality' (here. And apparently, _now_ ). Emily Davis was making him realize just how attractive that reality was.

There was a certain instinct, he realized, that all guys possessed. Even if he had spent most of his time in an all-boys private school – the instinct had just been dormant, waiting for a waft of feminine perfume to stir it into life.

That instinct – was to try and look cool in front of the opposite sex.

"So," he began, as he leaned back against his locker, forgetting that it was open, and that someone was kneeling in front of it. There was a yelp as his lockermate felt the sharp edge of the door trying to cut him in two. Derek hurriedly straightened, dropping two of the books he was still holding.

Emily pressed her lips together for a long second, before saying, "You know, you look busy...I should probably go."

She turned, and –

"Wait!" Derek took a step, and she obligingly came back. That was a good sign, right?

"I'm a little confused," he said. "I was wondering...maybe you could help me with my schedule?" He held out his timetable, and Emily looked at him – and okay, she looked amused...but she also looked pleased, and he was definitely getting the hang of this whole flirting thing.

Until –

"Or maybe you could impress Em with your basic literacy skills and read it yourself? That is, if you've finished klutzing it up?"

"Casey! I've been waiting for you," Emily exclaimed. Derek heard the bang of a locker door from behind him, and suddenly, his locker-mate was standing beside him, _War and Peace_ in his hands.

"Hi, Casey," he said.

"Hi, Tinker," Casey smiled in his direction.

He brandished his book. "I checked out that book you recommended. It's a real page-turner – just like you said."

Casey frowned. "I don't remember recommending" –

"Well, I overheard you talking about it that time I happened to be standing right behind you in the cafeteria line. It was May fifteenth – Wednesday. You were wearing a light blue t-shirt and Capri pants." At her vague look, he deflated slightly. "You probably didn't see me. That's cool – it could happen to anyone."

Casey stared at him for a long moment, before turning back to her friend. "Sorry, Em – I ran into Sam, and we lost track of time. But you'll never guess what I found out!" Her hand reached out to grip Emily's elbow. "Guess who has a crush on you?"

Emily's mouth opened. "Not..."

Casey nodded, and began to steer Emily up the hallway. "Yes!"

"I don't believe it! That's totally..." Emily glanced over her shoulder, and said, "Oh – bye Derek. Casey, are you sure he meant me?"

"Of course I am, Em. Sam heard him say it himself." Casey threw a smug smile over her shoulder, and Derek ground his teeth. "I'd ask you to join us, Derek, but I'm sure Tinker would love to show you around – right Tink?" She unleashed a blinding smile on Tinker, who practically swooned. "I'd consider it a personal favor."

She took his lovesick blinking as tacit agreement, and Derek and his locker-mate watched them walk away.

"I can't believe it," his locker-mate said finally, "I never would have thought it was possible, but – I think she got even more beautiful over the summer."

Derek groaned.

*****

"Clearly, she did it to get back at me for rejecting her offer," Derek said.

"Oh, clearly," Paul repeated.

He sighed. "I just don't know what to do. The whole situation is just so unfair."

Paul thought for a second. "Well...if you're looking for suggestions, I've got one."

"It's not going to be one of those useless, 'you need to compromise' ideas, is it? Any more compromising, and I end up folded in _half_."

"Not exactly," Paul said. "Though I was going to suggest that you start by resolving one basic issue."

Derek frowned.

Paul explained. "The first thing you mentioned when you came in is the fact that you feel crowded – like you don't have a space of your own. Well – maybe if you settle the space issue, you might find that other issues start falling into place, too." He looked encouraging.

"The space issue?" Derek considered this in silence. "The _space_ issue," he repeated, with dawning comprehension. "Paul, I think you're right. I need to resolve the space issue!"

He got to his feet, then stopped. "I can't believe it, but this talking-thing might...actually have helped. Thanks!"

"You're welcome," Paul said, lips twitching.

"And – uh...I'll let you know how it works out. You know...at my next appointment?" Derek said, somewhat hesitantly.

"I'm looking forward to it," Paul said, and smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reworking of 'Male Code Blue' - now 'Best Friend Code Blue'

"Okay," Paul said eventually. "What's wrong?"

Absently, Derek looked up at him. "Hmm? What? Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Why?"

"Because usually we're," he consulted his watch, "mid-way into a Casey diatribe by now."

Derek shook his head pityingly. "Paul – I'll grant you that Casey is a _persistent_ nuisance, but it's not like my life revolves around her."

"Uh-huh," Paul said, as he scrutinised Derek's relaxed sprawl and the hint of a smile playing around his mouth.

Abruptly, Paul leaned forward and folded his arms. "Okay," he said, amusement quirking through his voice. "Then how about you tell me about the girl you like?"

"Girl? What – there's no girl," Derek denied.

"Okay," Paul said agreeably, obviously not buying it.

"And even if there _was_ a girl, what makes you think I'd want to talk about her with my guidance counsellor? No offence, Paul, but that would be really lame."

"I understand," he said, and tapped his fingers on the desk. "So…what _do_ you want to talk about?"

Derek stared disbelievingly at him and raised his eyebrows, and with a wry twist of his lips, Paul gave in. "Is she cute?"

"Smokin'," Derek assured him.

Paul hid his face in his mug of coffee for a moment before he ventured to ask, "And are you planning on asking her out?"

Suddenly, Paul was confronted with the familiar aggrieved face Derek made right before launching into a discussion of –

"Well I _would_ , if Casey would just back off already."

"Casey?" Paul blinked in confusion. "What does Casey have to do with this?"

"Nothing," Derek said firmly. "It's just that Emily is Casey's best friend, and it's kind of impossible to get her alone."

"Huh," Paul said, frowning at this new information. "You like Casey's best friend."

"No – I like _Emily_. Casey has nothing to do with it."

Paul made a non-committal sound in response before asking, "Does Casey know that you like her best friend?"

"I don't know," Derek said. "And I don't care. And you know _why_ I don't know or care?" he finished with an expectant look.

"Be…cause your life doesn't revolve around Casey?" Paul hazarded.

"Exactly."

*****

"I'm going to ask her out," Derek declared as he watched Emily from across the cafeteria. She was sitting alone, though probably not for long, given the way she kept twisting around in her seat as if she was looking for someone.

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" Tinker asked him. "I mean, once you put yourself out there, there's no going back. It's the point of no return. If she laughs in your face…"

"If she laughs in my face, it'll be because I told her a joke," Derek said. He blew out a breath. "I'm going over there and I'm going to ask her out."

"Okay," Tinker said, with a strong undercurrent of 'you'll be sorry' in his voice. "But I should let you know that this isn't how highschool relationships work, in my experience."

Derek stared at him. "Tinker – you've spent the last couple of years crushing on a girl who barely knows you're alive. Don't you mean 'in your inexperience'?"

Ignoring this, Tinker cautioned him, "You have to start slow. Make sure you pass her in the hallways as often as possible – take the same classes she does. Find out what books she's reading, the kind of music she likes. Then, in a couple of years, you'll have a solid foundation" –

"For what? A restraining order?" Derek asked. He straightened. "Well, those of us not born during the Year of the Chicken do things a little differently. I'm going over there."

Tinker observed him. "You're not moving," he observed finally.

"It feels like I am," Derek said, eyes fixed on Emily, and hands white-knuckled on his food tray. He shook his head slightly, "Or maybe the cafeteria is."

Tinker placed a helpful hand on his shoulder, and pushed – and even though it was a Tinker push (and therefore the physical equivalent of a polite suggestion rather than a forceful assertion), it did the trick and Derek lurched forward.

After wending a jerky course through the cafeteria, he ended up in front of Emily, who smiled up at him and said, "Hey there!"

"Hey," he said, and made a show of looking around the Caseyless surrounding area. He leaned in and said in a low, confidential voice, "You finally snap and kill her? Don't worry – your secret's safe with me."

Emily giggled. "Casey's with Sam. Doing Casey-and-Sam coupley things." She looked down and pushed her salad around with her plastic fork. "So it looks like I'm lunching solo today."

Was that a hint? It _sounded_ like a hint.

He took a chance and said "I could keep you company, if you want." Then, with carefully calculated self-deprecation, "Unless you're afraid of my keener germs or something."

"No," she said, quickly. "Of course not. Sit down."

He did, uncapping his drink and smiling across the table at her.

"As a matter of fact, I'd love to catch some of your keener germs," she continued, and he choked on a mouthful of water.

"I meant…because of that Math test," she explained. "You know – you getting all that stuff…and me, _not_."

"I could tutor you, if you" –

He didn't even get to finish his offer before Emily chimed in with, "Thanks, but I'm probably going to study for it with Casey. We kind of have a thing." She stopped. "But you could study with us, if you wanted."

"And voluntarily spend time with Casey? I think I'll pass," Derek said.

They lapsed into silence for a few moments before Derek said, concentrating ferociously on turning his water bottle in circles, "So…you have any plans for this weekend?"

Emily grimaced. "Well, Casey and me were thinking of going to this concert – this band, Swish Miss – have you heard of them?"

Derek shook his head.

"But anyway, I think Casey already made plans with Sam, so…we're probably not going."

"That sucks," he managed absently, almost floored by the sheer perfection of the opportunity in front of him. Emily shrugged and speared a piece of chicken on her fork. "But you know," he said, "if you really want…"

Emily looked up at him, possibly because his words were coming out in slow motion…or at least, that's what it felt like. But determined, he pressed forward, digging the fingers of his right hand into his leg to get the perfect, casual tone into his voice. "It sounds like you'd like to go to the concert, and I was thinking…maybe we" –

Emily half-nodded, like she was encouraging him to go on, but then a familiar and unwelcome voice chimed in –

"Maybe _we_ could move, so that _I_ can sit down?"

Derek closed his eyes.

"I'd ask you to join us, but your friend – singular – is probably looking for you," Casey said. She put down her tray and made encouraging scooting motions with her hands.

Derek got to his feet. "I'll catch up with you later," he said to Emily, before turning and walking away.

They both watched him go. Then, as Casey busied herself with the food on her tray, she said, carefully, "Do you really think you should be so nice to Derek? I know you mean well, Em, but…don't you worry that he might get the wrong idea?"

"The…wrong idea?" Emily asked.

Casey rolled her eyes. "Come on, Em. It's pretty obvious that Derek has a crush on you."

"Derek likes me?" Emily asked, ducking her head a little and smiling.

"Of course," Casey said. She tilted her head. "Eugh, I know. Now you probably need some mouthwash to get that gross taste out, right?"

"I don't think Derek is gross," Emily objected.

Casey frowned. "You…don't?" She studied Emily carefully. "But…you don't _like_ him, right?"

Emily opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Casey continued, "Of course you don't." She shook her head, as if she couldn't believe she had actually considered the possibility for a second. "I mean, you would have told me if you did. That's practically rule one of the Best Friend Code, right?"

"Best Friend Code…right," Emily repeated.

Casey started laughing. Emily blinked, but smiled gamely as she asked, "What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking about how weird it would be if you actually _did_ like Derek."

"Weird?"

"Yeah. Think about it – Derek hanging out with our friends…hanging out with _Sam_. I mean – what would they even talk about? Or wait – actually, Derek would probably refuse to hang out with us – with _me_ – and you'd end up spending all your time over in Keenerville with Tinker Tomlin."

As Casey spoke, the smile slowly faded from Emily's face.

"Good thing you don't like him," Casey finished, with the air of one officially closing the subject.

"Yeah. Good thing," Emily repeated.

*****

When Casey arrived home, she spent her customary hour with Marti, engaging in structured play…though Marti herself seemed more interested in _un_ structured play. Then it was Edwin's turn as they discussed how best to proceed with his new girlfriend.

"So, you _don't_ think I should call Molly?" Edwin asked, clearly puzzled.

"Not less than two hours after you've _just_ spoken to her, no," Casey advised.

"But what if she wants me to call?" he said. "She did say, 'I'll talk to you later'. That sounds like she wants me to call."

"Trust me, Edwin – there's a fine line between acting like a good boyfriend, and looking desperate."

Just then, Derek walked in the door and she muttered to herself, "Case in point."

Edwin looked questioningly at her, and she said, "Why don't you go to your room, and we can finish this later."

Edwin gestured at the television. "But I was going to" –

Casey raised an eyebrow at him.

" – go to my room anyway," he finished, with a smooth change of gears. He attempted to lean on Casey's shoulder. "Sometimes, the connection we have is almost spooky, don't you think?" He shook his head as if amazed by said connection.

"Uh – Edwin?" she hinted.

"Going now," he assured her, and bounded up the stairs.

Derek crossed his arms. "Okay," he said, "Since you've banished Ed-minion, I'm guessing there's something you want to say to me?"

"No, not really," Casey said. "I just wanted to tell you that Emily and I are studying here tonight. I thought I'd warn you so that you can make yourself scarce."

"And why would I want to do that, again?"

She rolled her eyes. "Derek – come on. Aren't you getting a little tired of embarrassing yourself?"

He frowned at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Okay," Casey said, "You know something – I was going to try and stay out of this, but…since you don't seem to be getting it, here goes." She took a breath and announced, not unkindly, "Emily doesn't like you."

There was a split second where Derek looked taken aback, before he mounted a counter attack, asking, with flat disbelief, "And you would know this… _how_ exactly?"

"Derek," she let out a long suffering sigh, and pointed out, "I'm her _best friend_. We tell each other everything. It's part of the Best Friend Code. Trust me, if Emily liked you like that, I'd be the first to hear about it."

"Wait a minute – so just because Emily hasn't said anything to _you_ , I'm supposed to believe that she doesn't like me."

"Yes," Casey said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah…I don't think I'll be doing that."

Casey blinked. "…fine," she said. "I was only trying to help, but if you want to continue humiliating yourself – fine."

"Yeah, because _you're_ such an expert on relationships," Derek said.

"Well, I am _in_ a relationship, unlike certain people in this room."

"You are?" Derek asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. "With who?"

"Um… _Sam_? My boyfriend, Sam?"

He snorted. "Sam? Oh please – he's not a _boyfriend_ , he's just another extension of your control-freak tendencies."

"You know, I have no idea how your twisted mind has warped my _long-term_ and _very real_ relationship, but Sam is _definitely_ my boyfriend."

"Really?" Derek asked, sounding interested. "And – just for argument's sake, how would you define a 'boyfriend'?"

"What?"

Derek tilted his head and said, "Tick. Tock. And – before you ask, yes, there is a time limit on answers."

"I" – she fumbled, before collecting herself. "Fine. A boyfriend is…a guy who – you date. He's…someone who cares about you, and who you also care about."

"Is that it?" Derek asked, with a dismissive twist to his mouth. "That's the best you can do?"

"Of course not," Casey said, as she became more settled. "That's just the basic boyfriend package." She thought for a second. "A _good_ boyfriend is someone…who challenges you. Someone you can trust. Someone who's not afraid to call you out and tell you the things that you need to hear, even when you might not want to hear them" –

She stopped there – not because she was running out of things to say, but because Derek had started laughing.

"Right," he choked out. "And – and _Sam_ " – he had to stop and double over for a second, hands on his thighs. Casey watched him impatiently. Finally, he straightened up, and said, in a voice that indicated that the laughter was only temporarily contained, " _Sam_ does all this for you?"

"Of course," Casey said, without hesitating.

" _Sam_?" Derek said again. " _Sam_? The guy who practically has 'Welcome' tattooed across his forehead? He – 'challenges you'? He 'tells you what you need to hear'?" He shook his head and laughed again.

"What are you insinuating?" she asked tightly.

"I'm sorry – was I insinuating? I thought I was flat-out stating a fact. The fact that…you don't have a _relationship_. You have a _delusion_."

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Derek interrupted. "The truth is, you don't want a boyfriend – you want a boyfriend-shaped doormat. You don't want _anyone_ to challenge you, because no-one's allowed to go against the World According to Casey."

He held her gaze and said with an air of confident finality, "You can deny it all you want, but I'm never going to believe that you're 'challenged' by a guy who has no opinions." He held up his hand as Casey took an indignant breath. "Sorry – I meant a guy who has no opinions _of his own_."

He stopped for a second, obviously waiting for her counter-argument, but for some reason, Casey couldn't make any words come out of her mouth. "So," he said, satisfaction heavy in his voice, "You can see why I might not want to take your romantic advice."

*****

"Em…do you think Sam challenges me?" Casey asked hesitantly, tapping her pen against her Math book.

"Not if he knows what's good for him," Emily said. Casey's face fell, and Emily reconsidered. "Or…yes?" she tried.

"Are you just saying that?" Casey asked. "And remember, before you speak, the Best Friend Code calls for complete and total honesty."

"It does? Since when?"

"Okay, since right now," Casey admitted. She held up a warning finger. "But that doesn't make it less valid."

"Um…well, I guess…since you want complete honesty…" Emily began, sounding unsure. Casey nodded emphatically.

"Casey! Phone!" Edwin yelled from the top of the stairs. "It's Sam!"

"Hold that thought!" Casey told a suddenly relieved-looking Emily, before she hopped to her feet and made her way up the stairs.

"Sam!" she said, taking the phone from Edwin, "I'm so glad you called! I was just thinking about you." She made a face at Derek's bedroom door, and raised her voice in case Derek happened to be inside. "How did you know I wanted you to call? Was it the _deep-rooted_ and _genuine_ bond we so clearly share?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "That, and the fact that you asked me to call you at seven."

Casey's face fell. "Oh. Yeah. I forgot that." She lapsed into silence.

"Casey? Is everything okay?"

She bit her lip. "Sam…do you think you challenge me?"

"Yeah, of course," he replied, without a second of hesitation.

"Really?" Casey asked hopefully.

"Definitely," Sam sounded even more convinced.

Casey closed her eyes and smiled. "Sam – you have no idea what a relief that is to hear. And now that you've said it, I can't believe I was ever worried for even a second!" Then, expectantly, "Okay, so…how?"

"How…what?" he suddenly didn't sound as sure of himself.

"How do you challenge me?" Casey repeated. She waited.

"Um…actually Case," she frowned at the new, sheepish tone to his voice. "I…didn't really understand what you meant, so I just…said what I thought you wanted me to say."

Casey blinked. "Oh." She frowned at Derek's bedroom door. Slowly, she said, "You know, Emily's downstairs…I should probably go."

"Okay." Sam paused. "Case – you're not mad at me, are you?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm not mad at you." Almost to herself, she mumbled, "I…might be mad at _me_ though."

"Case?"

"I'll talk to you later," she said. She hung up and sat down on the first step of the stairs, the phone pressed against her forehead. After a moment, she felt someone drop down next to her.

She looked over. "Ed – you don't think I'm a control freak – do you?"

"You? A control freak? What would give you that idea?" He threw a companionable arm around her shoulder and continued, "Now I need you to tell me exactly what to say and do around Molly Moscovitz."

Casey stared at him and got to her feet. "I'm going to talk to Emily."

"Can we work on a script later?" Edwin called after her hopefully, as she made her way back downstairs and over towards the kitchen, where…Derek and Emily were talking.

She stopped and took a tiny step back and over to the side, the better to…not _spy_ …the better to _observe_. That was it.

" – should probably get back," Emily was saying, shifting nervously on her feet.

"What's the rush?" Derek asked. "Casey's on the phone to Sam – that's good for at least a half an hour of yakking."

"Yeah, but – my Math book is still there. I can't let you and – and Tinker hog all the high scores, right?"

She attempted to brush past him, but Derek caught hold of her arm and stepped in front of her. "So," he said, voice clearly aiming for careless and relaxed, even though his movements were anything but, "You know that concert you were talking about at lunch?"

Emily shook her head. "I – um, I don't" –

"I was thinking that – maybe we…could go. Together," he clarified.

Casey held her breath as Emily took this in.

"You mean…like a – date?" she said finally, slowly.

There was a beat before Derek went for broke and said, "Yeah. Like a date."

"Oh," Emily said. "That's – Derek…I can't do that. I'm sorry."

There was a skin-crawling second of silence, where Casey's stomach twisted into knots from what she could only assume was sympathetic embarrassment – before Derek barreled ahead.

"Why? Is this something to do with Casey? Because" –

"What? No. No, it's not Casey," Emily said. "I just – don't feel that way. About you." She stopped. "I'm sorry," she said, and it was the first thing that Casey had heard her say so far that sounded sincere.

Derek suddenly snapped out of his frozen position and shrugged with desperate, unconvincing bravado, "It's no big deal."

Emily just looked helplessly at him before Derek broke the stare-mate and suggested, "Don't you have to get back to your Math book?"

"Yeah. Right. I should…" she gestured, then stepped past Derek. Casey hurried back to the living room, just making it to the couch in time to alleviate suspicion when Emily entered.

"Casey!" she said, sounding guilty.

"Hey, Em," Casey smiled, trying to push down the roiling mass of complicated feelings bubbling in her stomach. After all, in spite of the fact that she'd withheld information from Casey – in flagrant violation of the Best Friend Code – she had shot Derek down in the end. Even though that didn't seem connected to the whole Best Friend Code in any way Casey could see, she was more than willing to take it as a secret peace offering.

The downcast look on Emily's face though, made her pause. "Is everything okay?"

Emily nodded, too fast. "Yeah. Everything's fine, Case. I just – I'm not really feeling the study-vibe tonight. I think I'll just head home."

"Oh. Okay," Casey said, as Emily picked up her Math book. "Are you sure that everything's" –

The sound of the door closing was her only answer.

*****

"You, uh, you don't happen to know Lizzie's favourite food, do you?" his mom asked suddenly as she paired socks on top of the washer.

"Fish sticks," Derek said absently.

"Yeah – of course," his mom said. "Good job. How about…the name of her gym teacher?"

"I don't know," Derek said, and Nora brightened. "I _think_ it's Hasbro or something – but his first name's definitely Jim."

Nora deflated. "Wow. I really am a lousy parent." She slumped over the washing machine. "Not that I'd believe you, but it would be nice if you disagreed."

She waited, before abruptly straightening when Derek didn't say anything. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"What? No – yeah, I'm fine," Derek said, shaking his head as he retuned in to the conversation.

"Really? Because you seem kind of mopey." She eyed him consideringly. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Emily going home early, would it?"

He fixed her with a level stare. "No."

She rubbed his arm sympathetically. "Want to talk about it?"

He backed away from her slightly. "No," he said, holding up his hands. "Uh-uh, no way. Not going to happen."

"What? I was only offering" –

"No," he cut her off. "We are not going to have a Very Special Moment just so that you can feel better about your parenting skills."

"It might make you feel better too," she tried. "Come on – one little moment?"

Her hand was still on his shoulder, and she was fixing him with the puppy-mom eyes. He groaned. "One. Just one feel-good moment – lasting ten seconds or less."

Nora made a happy little squeak, before saying, "Okay – how about this? I know it doesn't seem like it right now, honey, but – the nice guy wins in the end. Eventually, girls figure out that the _best_ guy is the one who's sensitive and sweet. And if you don't believe me – ask Casey. Am I right, Casey?"

Derek closed his eyes in defeat because _of course_ Casey would just have to be standing behind him in time to catch the embarrassing mom-speech – the one that he only subjected himself to for his mom's sake, because he completely and absolutely didn't need it. At all. Or ever.

Casey didn't disappoint, even though her voice sounded strained and a beat too slow as she said, "You're right, Nora. Of course, that still doesn't help Derek, because he's none of those things. And he's not even that good at _faking_ sensitive and sweet."

He threw Casey a withering look as he left.

Nora sighed. "I _am_ a bad parent."

"Well I'm starting to think that I'm a bad girlfriend, a bad friend and an all-around bad person," Casey said. She grimaced. "Make you feel better?"

Nora considered this. "A little."

*****

"Dad – am I a control freak?" Casey asked.

George swallowed the bite of cookie he was eating, and hedged, "I wouldn't say 'freak'." Then, as he saw the dejected look on her face, he got to his feet and slid his arm around her shoulder. "Okay, Princess, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," Casey said. She turned a little, wrapping both arms around him, and spoke into his chest. "Just – I don't know. Would you say that…I can't just let things happen? Do you think that I always need to be in control of everything?"

George thought about this, absently rocking her from side to side a little, as if she still a kid. "What's wrong with being in control?" he said. "I mean, if you weren't around to organise things, I'd probably have lost Marti and Edwin in a department store long ago." Casey half-smiled against his chest. "Being in control isn't a bad thing."

She took a step back so that she could see his face. "But do you think that sometimes, I overdo it?" she asked, carefully scrutinizing him to ensure an honest answer.

"Maybe a little," George acknowledged. "But your intentions are always good."

Casey brightened. "You're right," she said slowly. "They are." She leaned up and kissed her dad's cheek. "Thanks dad!"

"Anytime," George said, a little bemusedly.

*****

The next day at school, Casey's first order of business was to track Sam down.

"Hey," he said, after he kissed her hello, "Are you okay? You sounded kind of weird on the phone last night."

"I'm fine!" Casey said. "Just fine. But okay…I know we said we'd do something this weekend. The thing is – Em's feeling a little down" –

Sam nodded to show he was following.

" – so I was thinking maybe we could postpone? That way I can cheer Emily up by going to that concert with her."

"Oh – okay," Sam shrugged and smiled.

The hopeful smile Casey was wearing faded slightly. "Okay," she repeated. "That's it?"

Sam looked confused.

"You're not mad I'm changing our plans for this weekend?"

"Do you…want me to be mad?" Sam asked.

"No!" Casey said. Then, more quietly, "No. I just…I want you to tell me what you think. _Honestly_ ," she stressed.

"What do I think?" he echoed. "About – you changing our plans?"

"About anything."

Sam looked confused. "I don't know, Case. What do you want me to say?"

She shook her head. "But that's the problem! I don't want you to say what _I_ want you to say! I want you to say what _you_ want to say, even if I don't want you to say it! Do you understand me?"

Sam shook his head. "…no."

She choked out a deep, upset sigh.

"I mean…maybe?" he tried again.

*****

Paul Greebie's door opened, and a dark-haired girl stepped inside.

"Hello" – he began.

"I'm sorry – wrong room," she said immediately, and left.

He returned to the papers on his desk, but a second later, and his door opened again, revealing the same dark-haired girl.

"Hi," she said, clinging to the door handle.

"Hi," he said. "Is this still the wrong room?" He smiled at her. "I'm Paul – the guidance counsellor."

"I know," she said. "I read the sign."

He raised his eyebrows.

"I'm Casey Venturi," she said.

"Oh," he said. His eyebrows rose even higher. "Nice to meet you." He took her in with unabashed interest.

"Let me guess – Derek's mentioned me a couple of times," she stated.

Paul made a non-committal noise, and asked, "So…what can I do for you?"

"The thing is – I don't need any guidance," she told him, as she closed the door and advanced into the room. "I mean, if you knew me – which you obviously _don't_ , because I don't need guidance – you'd see how much I don't need guidance."

He gestured towards the chair opposite his desk and she sat down, still speaking. "I get good grades, I participate in school life, and I also enjoy a variety of diverse and stimulating activities outside of school. And I have a number of friends who would be willing to testify that I am a well-rounded and balanced individual."

"That won't be necessary," Paul told her.

"My point is – do I sound like the kind of person who needs guidance?"

"Well – you do sound…well-adjusted."

She sighed. "Except now, I'm wondering if that's all a lie I've been telling myself."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because Derek told me that I'm a control freak."

"Okay…well, why does it matter what Derek thinks?"

"Because he's right!" she burst out. "Because even though I never meant to, I've organized every relationship in my life so that I'm unequivocally in charge. I spend an hour a day trying to mold my little sister's cognitive faculties…my little brother comes to me for romantic advice – and my dad needs me to schedule… _everything_."

"Well, that does sound a little pressurized. But as long as it's a mutually beneficial" –

"I wasn't finished," Casey said. "I believe that the most important quality in a boyfriend is his ability to challenge me…but my own boyfriend is afraid to even challenge me on a simple statement. And I think my best friend just turned down a guy she really likes because of me." Casey leaned back in her chair and asked, almost triumphantly, "Does _that_ sound healthy to you?"

"…no," Paul said, and Casey's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she leaned forward.

"Are you just saying that because you know that's what I want to hear, or because you genuinely believe it?"

Paul held up his hands in pre-emptive surrender. "No, no – I think it sounds like you're in a really emotionally unhealthy situation. Really."

"Good," Casey relaxed slightly. She bit her lip. "The thing is – I'm a good person. Or at least…I think I am. I mean – I didn't _know_ she liked this guy. Not…really. She never told me – _she_ was the one who broke the Best Friend Code."

"Why do think that is?" Paul asked, innocently.

Casey blinked. "Why do I think what is?"

"Why do you think your friend didn't tell you?"

"I" – Casey trailed off.

"She must have had a reason," Paul said, as if this was a logic problem he was thinking his way through aloud. "Maybe she didn't think you'd approve?"

"Of course I wouldn't approve!" Casey said, as if it was a simple, unalterable fact. "I mean – they're completely wrong for each other."

"Why?" Paul asked.

Casey made a floundering gesture. "They just… _are_ , okay? It's hard to explain…" Paul just steepled his fingers and looked interested. "I mean – Derek lives to bug me. His life practically revolves around making me miserable…this is just, I don't know, a subconscious extension of that. And Emily – Emily wouldn't be comfortable dating a guy at the bottom of the social ladder. She just _wouldn't_."

"Those are good points," Paul said thoughtfully, and Casey unwound a little. "But…don't you think you should let them decide that for themselves?"

" _No_ ," she said, wildly.

"Why not?"

" _Because_ ," she cast around for the reason. "Because Emily's my best friend, and Derek's my stepbrother, and – and they're clearly going to break up, and…and I'll be stuck in the middle."

"But what if you're not?" Paul asked. "In the middle, I mean?"

Casey looked as if he had slapped her.

"I know you probably don't need any guidance," Paul said gently, "But if you want to hear my thoughts on this...I think this is a situation you may need to stop trying to control." In that same soft, sympathetic tone, he said, "Ultimately, I think it's out of your control anyway."

Casey blinked. Then, "Or," she said slowly, "I have an alternative plan."

"I'd love to hear it."

"I'm not going to try and control things anymore" –

Paul nodded.

" – right after this one, last, slightly manipulative action," she finished. "I mean, it's for Emily and Derek's own good – that makes it okay, right?"

"What do you think?" Paul asked.

"I think it's a good plan," Casey said, shoulders raising defensively.

Paul looked at her for a long moment, then nodded – not in agreement, but…acknowledgement. "Let me know how it turns out," he said, in that same steady, interested tone.

"I would," Casey excused, with a polite smile as she got to her feet, "But I don't think I'll need to come back here anytime soon."

*****

Emily didn't seem overly enthused about the concert, but Casey made up for that. She possibly overcompensated a little, because of the guilty feeling slithering through her, even though she was acting in everyone's best interests.

"And after the concert, why don't we go for dessert – and we can talk boys. You know, you haven't dated anyone in a while, so maybe we could make a short-list of eligible guys. And then you can double with me and Sam! That would be fun, right?" That was the solution. She'd find Emily a nice, _suitable_ boyfriend, and the horrible guilty feeling would go away...right?

"I don't know, Case," Emily said. "I'm not really in the mood to talk guys."

"Who are you and what have you done with Emily Davis?" she joked.

Emily fixed her with a serious, unamused look. "Casey – can we just drop it?"

"Yeah…okay," Casey said, uncertainly.

Just then Emily stiffened, as she caught sight of Derek walking ahead of them. "Derek!" she called, as she speeded her way through the corridor.

Derek turned just as they caught up with him. "Yeah?" he said, with the barest glance at Emily. "Did you want something?"

"I – wanted to say hi," Emily said, sounding taken aback but smiling hopefully.

"Hi," Derek said flatly. "Anything else?"

"…no. That was all."

But as Derek began to turn away, and Emily said, "Wait! Actually…there was something else."

She threw a glance at Casey that Casey couldn't decipher, and said, "About – the concert…I wanted to say that…we could still go. As – as friends."

Derek looked between her and Casey. "Thanks," he said, in a voice that didn't sound all that thankful. "But I'd hate to ruin that special relationship your lips have with Casey's butt."

He strode off up the corridor.

"Em…" Casey began, reaching out her hand, but Emily didn't seem to register it, and rushed towards the girls' bathroom.

Casey just stood there as the sloshy guilty feeling turned into dozens of stabby guilty knives, and she realised that she couldn't go through with this. No matter how much she didn't want Derek and Emily to happen.

"Wow," came a voice from her left. "Those two, huh? Maybe we should – I don't know – get together. I mean, _work_ together. To help them through it."

She stared at Tinker Tomlin for an incredulous moment, before following Emily.

*****

"So," she said, as she watched Emily wash her hands. "You really like Derek, huh?"

Emily met her eyes for an unfriendly second. "Yeah," she said, as she concentrated on drying her hands with a paper towel. "I know he's not popular, and he's friends with Tinker Tomlin, and he doesn't play sports and he's a total keener, but…yeah. I like him."

Casey absorbed this in silence. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, trying very hard not to sound accusing.

Emily spared her another glance. "Maybe I didn't want you to convince me I was wrong."

"Emily – I would never do that!" she said, but under Emily's doubtful gaze, she amended it to, "I wouldn't do it about anything important. And maybe…" she said slowly, "Maybe you shouldn't _let me_ convince you about those things anyway."

Emily took this in. "Yeah," she said finally. "Maybe."

"Okay," Casey said briskly. "New Best Friend Code. The number one rule – is honesty. If I need to be called out on something, then you should call me out on it. Deal?"

"I think I can do that," Emily said, and shook Casey's hand to seal the deal.

"Don't you want to know what the number two rule is?" Casey asked.

"Not really."

"That's a shame," Casey said. "Because I think you'd like it. It has to do with me being supportive of your dating choices" –

Emily smiled.

" – even when those choices are completely wrong for you, and are doomed to end with" – she trailed off under Emily's raised eyebrow. "Okay, so I might have to work on that one. But…while I do, why don't you find Derek and ask him to that concert?"

A smile spread across Emily's face, and she threw her arms around her. "Thanks, Case."

Casey hugged her back, then forced a smile onto her face and said, "Now, go. Ask him."

She stayed in the bathroom for ten minutes after that, just to be safe. She might have given Emily her blessing, but that didn't mean she actually wanted it to happen.

*****

"It sounds like you did the right thing," Paul told her, after she'd finished.

"I know," she said. "I didn't come here because I needed validation."

"Oh. Then – why did you come here?"

She shrugged. "I don't know – I thought maybe you'd like some narrative closure. And…I kind of wanted you to know that I did the right thing."

"I had a feeling you would," Paul said.

"I broke up with my boyfriend," Casey offered suddenly.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"But not surprised?" she guessed with a small smile.

"It did sound like you two were having some problems," he said diplomatically.

"It's not Sam's fault. He's a great guy. I just – think I'm looking for…someone different."

Paul nodded.

"Well…I think that's everything," Casey said, getting to her feet. "It was nice talking to you." She held out her hand and Paul shook it.

"Likewise," he said. "And if there's ever anything you want to talk about" –

"Thanks," she interrupted, "But I think I'm getting things back on track."

"That's good to hear – but if you have any other problems you want to" –

"I don't really have any other problems," Casey said. "Well, apart from _Derek_ , that is."

"Okay…well, if you ever want to talk about him" –

"Oh, please, Paul," Casey shook her head in amused pity. "Derek might be a constant thorn in my side, but it's not as if my life revolves around him."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reworking of 'Venturian Candidate'

"You know," Paul said helpfully, gesturing at Derek's forehead, "You still have a little…"

"Thanks," Derek said, leaning in to take the tissue Paul proffered – and in spite of his training, Paul couldn't help but move backwards a little bit. It wasn't a conscious choice…the smell of fish was overpowering.

Derek wiped his face carefully, then made a face as he examined the globs of tuna and mayonnaise left on the Kleenex.

"So," Paul said, tapping his fingers on the desk. His mouth twitched. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Derek ran a hand through his hair, and some errant flakes of tuna cascaded down, like aquatic dandruff. "It's a long story."

*****

"Student council presidential elections?" Derek said, reading the poster. Beside him, Emily tensed.

"You're not…thinking of running or anything, are you?"

"Let me think about it – volunteer for a thankless, uncool – and most importantly, _unpaid_ position…yeah, I think I'll pass."

Emily relaxed. "Good," she said. "Anyway, everyone knows that school elections are Shlepper-territory."

Derek wrinkled his forehead. "Shlepper-territory? What's a Shlepper?"

Before Emily could answer, a voice spoke right into Derek's ear, and he found his hand being squeezed by a dark-haired guy in a pastel blue sweater. "Hi, Sheldon Shlepper – can I count on your vote?"

"I don't know – can I count on some personal space?" Derek asked, taking a step away from the dark-haired guy, and pulling his hand back.

"Well, if it isn't the lovely Emily Davis," the guy said, abruptly losing interest in Derek and instead fixing appreciative eyes on his girlfriend. Derek's eyes narrowed.

"Hi, Sheldon," Emily said, a long-suffering but amused tone to her voice. "How's the campaign shaping up?"

"Good," he said, "Lack of any other candidates – that's a good start." He stopped, and in an 'I've-just-had-a-great-idea-voice' he said, "But actually, there is something you could really help me with."

"Don't worry, Sheldon. If I bother to vote, I promise, it'll be for you," Emily assured him.

"No, it's not that," Sheldon said, stepping in front of Derek as if he wasn't there. "It's just…I've been thinking – what's a President without a First Lady? Someone to schedule my appointments, fundraise, and provide support throughout the elections…"

He raised his eyebrows optimistically at Emily, while Derek, tired of being ignored, pushed between them.

"That sounds more like a campaign manager," he pointed out.

"Well, maybe," Sheldon conceded. "But with kissing. So – what do you say, Emily?"

She blinked. "That's very, um…sweet of you, Sheldon, but" –

"She's spoken for," Derek said, draping an arm around her waist.

Sheldon's attention snapped onto Derek. "Oh - you must be Derek Venturi," he said, giving him an unimpressed once-over before he turned back to Emily. "I get it, Emily – you're self-sabotaging because you're scared of dating a major public figure."

He smiled understandingly and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But I want you to know, that when you come to your senses and conquer your fear – I'll be ready."

"Thanks Sheldon," Emily said dryly. "That'll make one of us."

"You should probably dump this guy first, though," Sheldon advised her, tilting his head towards Derek. Then, with a polished, professional smile, he said, "Remember – vote Shlepper!" before launching himself towards another group of students, further down the corridor.

" _That's_ a Shlepper," Emily said, as they stared after him.

"He just asked you out," Derek said, frowning. "In a weird way."

"Yeah," Emily said, unphased. "He's been doing that since we were in Grade Six. He asks me out, I shoot him down – it's kind of like a tradition at this point."

Derek stared at her. "But – asking you out in front of your boyfriend? Me?"

Emily shrugged. "He _has_ been stepping it up a notch recently." Almost to herself, she said, "I guess he figures that since I'm dating you, I might…" she trailed off, as if just realizing that she was speaking to Derek. "You know what? We should get to class!"

She took hold of Derek's arm and attempted to pull him up the corridor. He didn't budge. "He figures that…?" he prompted.

Emily looked at him for a moment, gauging whether Derek could be distracted from the topic at hand. Finally she sighed and said, "Okay…I guess he figures that since I'm dating you…he might actually stand a chance with me."

Derek frowned. "How does he stand a chance with you if you're dating someone else?"

"Not someone else. You," Emily said reluctantly. "You're…a little different to the guys I usually date."

"So just because you're dating a" –

"Keener," Emily supplied, a little too quickly.

" – he thinks that improves his odds?"

"Something like that," she admitted.

"I can't believe that guy."

"Derek – it's Sheldon. There's no reason to feel threatened."

"Oh, I'm not," Derek said. "I mean, I may be a keener, but at least I'm not a Shlepper – right?"

"Right," Emily said brightly. "And now, why don't we stop talking about this, and get to class? You don't want all the good seats to be taken!"

She pulled at his arm, but Derek didn't budge. Slowly, incredulously, he said, "You think Sheldon Shlepper is cooler than me!"

"What? No. No. How can you even think…that," Emily denied, less than convincingly.

He fixed her with a sceptical gaze and with a slump of her shoulders, she gave in. "Okay, fine. Maybe Sheldon wins in the…coolness stakes. By – this much," she held her thumb and index finger an infinitesimal distance apart.

Derek stared at her in disbelief. "How am I _less cool_ than _that guy_?" he asked, gesturing in the direction in which Sheldon had Shleppered off.

"Maybe because the last time we had an oral history report, you presented yours while dressed up as the Earl of Selkirk. You know, little things like that."

"I told you, I only did that to upstage Casey."

Now it was Emily's turn to stare at him. "Good job on that."

Defensively, Derek continued, "I was the only person who got an A+ on that assignment. Plus, thanks to me, you remember the Earl of Selkirk now."

"Yeah," Emily agreed. "Even though I _wish_ I could forget."

He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Emily continued. "Anyway, why are we even talking about this? It doesn't matter if Sheldon Shlepper is cooler than you are."

Derek's posture softened, and asked tentatively, "It doesn't matter to you?"

"Of course not," Emily said, linking her arm through his and drawing him forward. "Don't worry, if we follow Casey's ten point plan, in a couple of months you'll be in the socially acceptable range, and no-one will even remember your keener past."

Derek stopped. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

He stepped back from her, pulling his arm out of her grasp. "You and Casey are drawing up some stupid plan to what – de-keenerize me?"

Emily blinked. "What's the big deal? I mean, you just basically said that you don't want to be lower on the social ladder than Sheldon Shlepper."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want a popularity hand-out."

"It's not a hand-out," Emily said, "It's more of a" –

"Let me guess – a ten point plan to integrate me into Casey's little world?" Derek finished.

"And what's wrong with that?" she asked. "You act like I'm asking you to – I don't know, get a B minus on a test or something. It's just a couple of small things. Like – you could sit at our table for lunch, sometimes. Maybe…join a club, or a team or something. Sam says" –

"I _knew_ it," Derek said, shaking his head. "Even though Casey's been acting like she's okay with us on the surface, I knew she'd try to pull something like this."

"Pull something like what?" Emily asked, crossing her arms.

"This stupid, shallow, popularity-is-everything, superficial schtick."

"I don't see why it's more superficial to care about what people think than to pretend that you _don't care_ ," she said.

Derek made a derisive sound. "Wow, Casey passed you an extra-big glass of kool-aid this time, huh?"

Emily shook her head slightly as she looked at him. "Of course. It automatically _has_ to be a bad idea, because Casey's involved. Because you can't ever ask her for help, even though it would make your life so much easier."

"I don't see why I should ask Preppy le Pew for help, just because she doesn't think I'm cool enough to date you," Derek defended.

"It wasn't Casey's idea," Emily said.

Derek stared at her.

"She didn't even want to help until I explained" –

"Explained what?" he asked tightly. "That you're embarrassed to be dating a total loser?"

"Derek, don't" –

"And that you needed Casey's expertise, because if anyone could rehabilitate a congenital keener, it'd be her. Well, sorry to throw off your plans, but" –

"What am I supposed to say, Derek?" Emily asked, rubbing her forehead. "That I like spending lunchtime with Tinker, while he pumps me for information on Casey? That it doesn't bother me when those guys make fun of you, and call you names?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry – I didn't realize my lack of popularity was such a drag for you," he said, insincerely apologetic.

Emily stared up at the ceiling for a moment, before she faced him head on. "You know something, Derek? I could handle that stuff. I _can_ handle it. But it's so…unnecessary. I just don't see why we have to go through all that stuff when" –

"When Casey can make it all better?" Derek asked, clasping his hands together in mockery.

"Yes," Emily said simply. "Why would you choose to be unpopular when you don't have to be?"

"Maybe I just didn't get that it was such a dealbreaker for my girlfriend," Derek said, with a stiff little shrug.

Emily looked a little embarrassed, but wheedled, "It's not like I'm asking you to compromise on something important."

"No, you're just asking me to change who I am so that I'll fit with the in-crowd."

Emily sighed, unimpressed. "Yes, I'm a terrible girlfriend for thinking you deserve better than this. If this involved anyone else but Casey, tell me you wouldn't jump at it."

She looked at him, and shook her head. "But I forgot the number one rule – you'd rather be miserable than ask Casey for help with anything."

"That's not the point," Derek started to say as he stared her down, but the bell rang before either of them could explain anything further.

*****

"Have you seen Derek?" Emily asked as she slid onto the seat next to Casey.

"I try to avoid seeing him when I'm about to eat," Casey informed her, holding up her Tupperware container to underscore the point.

"We were supposed to have lunch together, but I can't find him anywhere." Emily sighed. "I think I hurt his feelings."

Casey contemplated her salad. "That's weird. For some reason, I'm suddenly craving popcorn."

"I just don't get it," Emily said. "I mean, I'm dating him, so obviously _I_ rose above the whole unpopular keener thing. But – shouldn't _he_ be trying to rise above it, too?"

Suspiciously, Casey asked, "Em, you didn't happen to mention our ten point popularity plan to him, right?"

"It kind of slipped out?"

Casey shook her head. "Em – you can't _tell_ Derek these things!"

"He was freaking out about being less popular than Sheldon Shlepper – it seemed to really bother him and I thought it seemed like a good time to" –

"Maybe, if it was someone else. But it's _Derek_."

Emily sat back, as if expecting a diatribe on Derek's many undesirable qualities, but instead, Casey said simply, "Derek's really proud."

At Emily's raised eyebrows, she hurriedly continued in a more familiar vein. "I mean, I don't know why, or what he has to be proud _of_ – but he is. Maybe you could work the whole popularity plan if he wasn't aware of it, but now…?" she trailed off, a 'good luck with _that_ ' expression on her face.

Silence reigned for a few moments, as Casey took a bite of her salad. Then…

"I don't even see why you need this plan, anyway." She absently forked a lettuce leaf, and mused, "I mean, if my break up with Sam has taught me anything, it's that you can't mold someone into who you want them to be."

She sighed, then snapped back to the present. "And – you already like Derek for who he is, right? Well, he's an unpopular keener – that's just who he is."

"But he doesn't have to be," Emily argued. "Derek's…smart and funny and – and he doesn't _have_ to be a social reject."

"Except he is," Casey pointed out. "But – if you like him, does that really matter?"

*****

"Why are we eating out here?" Tinker asked, as they sat on the steps in the hallway.

"Because my girlfriend doesn't respect me." Derek took a huge bite of his sandwich.

"So she…banned you from the cafeteria?"

"No. I'm skipping out on our lunch date to resolve this issue."

Tinker watched as Derek took another bite of sandwich. "Can I go in there for a minute?" he asked. "Just to get something to eat?"

"No."

Tinker sighed, but settled back onto the steps. "Okay, so…what's the problem?"

"I told you – Emily doesn't respect me."

"But you two are still going out, right?"

Derek nodded and made an impatient 'your point is…?' gesture with his hands, causing a piece of tomato to fly out of the sandwich and hit the floor with a wet little slap.

"Then…does it matter if she doesn't respect you? She's still dating you," Tinker explained, eyeing the tomato with apprehension.

"Yeah, but she's going behind my back and talking about me with Casey and trying to make me into some other guy." He took an enormous bite of bread, causing his cheeks to puff out. "Well, I need her to respect me for the man I already am," he said, in a muffled voice.

"And that…involves hiding from her?"

Derek chewed and chewed and chewed. Then swallowed. "No," he said. "That involves me and…" he regarded Tinker critically, "…okay, just me, coming up with a plan to make her respect me." He stared down at the crusts of his sandwich. "I want her to think I'm cool."

"But you're not," Tinker chimed in.

"Yeah, thanks, I got that." Derek ran a hand through his hair, "I don't care about actually _being_ cool" –

"You don't?"

"No. The way I see it, a couple of years in college and I'm going to _own_ these losers."

"Have you actually said stuff like that to them?" Tinker asked, with the air of one who has just discovered the reason why his companion isn't more popular.

Derek sighed. "I just…want _Emily_ to think I'm cool. Even…if I'm not."

He slumped back against the steps, only to spring up as a familiar, Sheldon Shlepper shaped figure walked past. "Hey!" he yelled.

As Sheldon Shlepper turned, Tinker got to his feet. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"I don't know," Derek admitted, talking out of the corner of his mouth. "I think I might be demanding some respect."

He stepped towards Sheldon, who stuck out his right hand and said, "Sheldon Shlepper – nice to meet you. Can I count on your vote in the upcoming student elections?"

Derek stared at him and made no move to take his hand. "We already met," he reminded him. "This morning?"

A thoughtful look came over Sheldon's face as he withdrew his arm. "Oh yes," he said, with dawning comprehension. "You're Derek Venturi, current boyfriend of the lovely Emily Davis."

Derek gritted his teeth at the word 'current.' "I wanted to…" he stopped. "Okay, first of all, could'ja stop calling her 'the lovely Emily Davis'? You make her sound like a game show prize. She's not a washer-dryer."

"Of course not! Emily means so much more than a washer-dryer to me," Sheldon said indignantly.

"And second of all," Derek said, ignoring him, "I really don't appreciate you coming on to my girlfriend in front of me" –

Sheldon nodded attentively.

"So maybe you could stop doing that?"

Sheldon continued nodding. "You're threatened by me. It's understandable."

"Yeah, I'm not threatened by you," Derek said.

"Then why are you asking me to stop flirting with your girlfriend?" Sheldon asked, as if he was pointing out a devastating logical flaw in Derek's argument.

He blinked. "Because she's _my girlfriend_?"

"It sounds to me like you're threatened. And I don't blame you. I mean, face facts – Emily's going to figure out you're not good enough for her sooner or later, and when she does…" he pointed to himself with both index fingers, "I'll be waiting."

Derek clenched his fingers at his sides, but his voice came out as calmly amused. "Yeah – you seem to be forgetting that…Emily doesn't like you."

Sheldon brushed this aside. "A minor detail. And if you're sure she doesn't like me – then why the sudden 'no flirting with Emily' policy?"

Derek stared. " _Because she's my girlfriend!_ " He turned to Tinker. "Why is this so hard for him to understand?"

Heedless of this, Sheldon continued, "And, actually, not to get overly critical or anything, but if you really cared about Emily – shouldn't you just…step aside? Let her find happiness with someone who's…more on her level?"

Derek laughed in disbelief. "And you think that's…you? Well, I have news for you – I may not be a hockey captain or a football player anything…but I can beat a Shlepper any day of the week."

Sheldon raised his eyebrows, clearly sceptical.

Goaded, Derek continued, "As a matter of fact – I'll prove it." His eyes fell on the posters in Sheldon's left hand, and he straightened. "You and me – student council elections – I bet I can win."

Tinker drew in a breath, "Um…Derek" –

Sheldon stared at him. "You want to take me on…on the Shlepper playing field?"

"That's just how confident I am," Derek said, with a shrug.

"Derek, maybe you should recons" –

Sheldon shook his head, as if he couldn't believe Derek's stupidity. "Hey – if that's what you want…" he stuck out his right hand again. "May the best candidate win."

Tinker closed his eyes, as if he were in physical pain.

"Thanks," Derek told him, once more ignoring his outstretched hand. "I will."

As Sheldon walked away, pausing every so often to stick up a poster, Tinker said, worriedly, "You do know there's no way you can win this? Student elections are what Shleppers are _for_. Half the student body doesn't know who you are – and the other half thinks you're a Scottish transfer student called Earl."

To Tinker's surprise, Derek began to smile. "Oh no, I'm going to win this thing," he said. "But…I never said I'd _compete_."

*****

Derek stared at Casey's door for a second, contemplating the distasteful and unpleasant task that lay ahead. The thought of asking Casey for help made something squirm in his stomach.

But before he could think better of it, he flung open her door, and announced, "I need a puppet. I mean – I need a favour."

Casey looked up from her computer, and said, "You know, there's this new invention called 'knocking.' You might want to look into it." She went back to tapping her keyboard. "Anyway, what makes you think I would even consider doing a favour for you?"

"Your pathological need to be liked?" he offered.

"Wow – you've really nailed how NOT to ask for a favour," she said, crossing her arms. "And I don't have a pathological need to be liked."

She bit her lip and he started counting.

One.

Two.

Three.

"Are you insinuating that there are people who don't like me?"

Derek spread his arms out. "What can I say – when you're at the bottom of the social heap – you hear stuff."

Casey frowned. "You're lying."

"Of course – if you wanted to prove me wrong, you could always run for student council president," he suggested. "Just to show how popular you really are." He smiled winningly at her.

She laughed. "Run for student council president? I'm sorry – do I look like a Shlepper to you?"

He leaned back and considered her carefully. "You know, from this angle" –

She glared. "Forget it, Derek."

"Oh come on! Don't you care about the democratic process? If you don't step up and challenge the Shlepper, who will?"

"Why would I even want to challenge the Shlepper?"

"Why wouldn't you?" he said. "I mean, think about it – you've just broken up with Sam, and suddenly, you have all this free time on your hands. Free time you said you wanted to…" he sighed, "…use to 'benefit humanity'." He managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

She stared at him and he could tell that she was considering it. "I _could_ make a difference," she said slowly. "I mean, there are very real issues that I could highlight and" –

"So you'll do it?" he interrupted.

"Waitaminute – you said you needed a 'puppet'." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You want to use me to establish a dictatorship – as soon as I win the election, you're going to depose me!"

He blinked at her and said slowly, "Yes Casey, it's my dream to rule over a school with outdated computers, faulty vending machines, and toxic washrooms. I'm just itching to plant a flag and stake my claim."

"Then what's in it for you?" she asked suspiciously. She held up a hand as Derek opened his mouth to lie. "And it had better be the truth – or I'm out."

Derek considered her for a moment, before slumping in defeat and saying, "Fine. As your campaign manager, I would get to plan Sheldon Shlepper's inevitable humiliating defeat."

Casey raised her eyebrows, clearly expecting more.

"And…" the words were hard to force out. It wasn't easy to ask Casey for help (or, more accurately, insult her into helping), but that was nothing compared to how defenceless he felt while sharing actual feelings with her, "It might make Emily respect me more."

He tensed, ready for Casey's best retaliatory shot. But when it came, it wasn't really an attack at all.

"You know, I realize you haven't been dating Emily that long," she said conversationally, "But still, you should have figured out by now that winning a student council election isn't exactly the way to her heart."

"It can't hurt," he shrugged, and met her eyes for a quick second. "At least it'll show that I'm better than a Shlepper."

There was a silence, broken only by the sound of Casey drumming her fingers against her desk. "And if I win" –

" _When_ ," he assured her.

"You'll stay out of student council business?"

"You couldn't pay me to get involved."

She looked down and he could see that she was fighting a smile. "So…you really think I can win this thing? I mean, you must think that, since I'm the person you chose to ask."

She couldn't be more blatantly fishing for compliments if she had a net in her hands.

But…

"Of course you're going to win," Derek said, matter of factly. "I mean, you've got something Sheldon Shlepper can only dream about."

"Integrity?" she offered hopefully. "Ethics?"

He blinked at her. "Cleavage."

*****

"Ta-dah! How does it look?" Casey asked.

Emily blinked at the poster Casey had just unrolled. "It looks like a poster that says you're running for student council president." She stopped. " _Why_ are you holding a poster that says you're running for student council president?"

Casey's smile became even wider. "Because I'm running for student council president!"

"O-kay," Emily said slowly. "…since when are _you_ a council keener?"

"Since I realized that it's cool to care?"

"No," Emily told her, "It's not."

Casey slumped, and her bright smile faded a little. "Okay, it's not," she admitted, "But it _is_ important!"

"I guess," Emily said, reluctantly, eyes fixed on Casey's campaign poster. "But aren't you forgetting something? We already _have_ someone who cares…Sheldon Shlepper?"

"I know, but…ever since Sam and I broke up, I've been looking for a way to channel my painful personal growth into something positive – like this!" She stood straighter, head held high, as if she were addressing an audience. "I want to make a difference. I want to stand for something…something bigger than myself."

"Backed up toilets and faulty vending machines?" Emily asked, a nonplussed look on her face.

"I know it sounds silly," she said. "But – it's really important to me." She made a pleading face, eyes wide, mouth turning down at the corners. "Please, Em?"

Emily made it a whole three seconds before succumbing. She slumped, and sighed, "Okay."

Casey made a squeaky sound of triumph and threw her arms around her, and Emily found herself fighting a smile. "So…what do you want me to do?"

"Well, actually, Derek's got it pretty much under control – in a couple of minutes I'm going to announce my candidacy and after that" –

"Waitaminute – did you just say that _Derek's_ got everything under control?"

"Mm-hm," Casey nodded brightly. "He's my campaign manager. As a matter of fact, he's the person who convinced me to run in the first place."

"He…did?" Emily blinked. "Why would _Derek_ want _you_ to run for student council president?"

Casey suddenly became extremely interested in rolling up her poster. "Um…I don't know. He probably wants to teach me a lesson about the burdens and responsibilities of being a keener, or something."

"That makes sense…I guess," Emily admitted, and Casey relaxed. Emily frowned, "But" –

"Or hey! You can ask him yourself!" Casey interrupted, gesturing up the hall to where Derek was making his way towards them. She rapidly unrolled her poster and held it up for inspection. Emily straightened, but Derek hardly seemed to register her presence when he reached them. Instead he grabbed the poster from Casey, and demanded, "What is _this_?"

"It's one of my campaign posters," Casey said. "Do you like it?"

"And why are you wearing a badge that says, 'I care'?"

"Because I care," she told him.

Derek made a face. "No, no, _no_. You don't _care_. Caring is for Shleppers and other losers. You don't _have_ to care, because you're popular" –

"That's what I told her," Emily chimed in, but Derek continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "And that's why you're going to win."

"But I don't want to win just because I'm the most popular candidate – I want to win based on my policies and my upstanding principles."

Both Derek and Emily stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language, then jumped as inspirational muzak began wafting out of the speaker system.

"Oh! That's me!" Casey said, handing her poster to Emily, and bustling towards the steps.

"What is she doing?" Derek asked.

"Unleashing her inner keener?" Emily suggested. She squinted. "Where did she get the microphone?"

Derek groaned, and followed her. Luckily, he had a couple of minutes grace as she stood at the bottom of the stairs and scanned a terrifyingly long screed that (to his horror) _folded out_ like a written concertina.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he hissed at her.

"Announcing my candidacy with a speech designed to inspire the entire student body."

Derek peered over her shoulder at the speech and grimaced. "Okay – some advice as your campaign manager? _Don't_."

He attempted to grab the paper from her, but she moved it out of reach. "It's not cool," he told her, grabbing for the speech again.

"Assuming that I even care about that, _you_ are the last person I would ever take advice on 'coolness' from."

"Yeah, just because I'm not popular _here_ doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about," he said. "In my old school" –

"Derek, just because they let you hold your nose before they pushed your head down the toilet, doesn't mean they _liked_ you."

He looked at her, gauging whether or not she could be talked out of this. Finally, he gave in and said, "Okay – but can you at least keep it short?"

"My speech?" she asked, already flicking through it.

"No, your skirt. Can you hike that thing up, or something?"

She took a minute to stare at him in disgust before walking partway up the steps and addressing the gathering crowd. "My fellow students, I want to speak to you today about a very serious issue, one I'm sure is close to all your hearts. That issue…is democracy."

Derek lurched up the steps and took hold of the microphone. "Vote Casey Venturi for student council president. Enough said – right?" He held his hands in front of him and flicked his fingers at the assembled students, shooing them away. To his disappointment, they didn't 'shoo.'

Casey grabbed the microphone back. "No, it isn't enough. And I'm sure that the student body is just as eager as I am to discuss the key issues of this campaign." She turned to them. "Right?"

There was a murmur of disagreement, and one guy called out, "Wrong!"

She blinked, taken aback, but rallied. "Sure, you say that now, but…you haven't even heard my suggestions for cleaning up the washrooms."

Somewhere in the crowd, Emily closed her eyes and rested her head against the heel of her hand.

At this, there was a sudden commotion, and the sound of some girls calling out, "WHOO!"

Casey turned to Derek and whispered, "See – I told you they'd come around!"

However, the "whooing" turned out to be two girls in cheerleader outfits, who shook their pom-poms and announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen – Sheldon Shlepper!" before stepping aside to reveal…well, Sheldon Shlepper.

Who gestured towards the cheerleaders and said, "Big ups to the Shleppettes," before continuing, "Unlike certain other candidates I could mention, I'm going to keep this short…and savoury! Free pizza in the caf – compliments of your future school president!"

The hallway abruptly emptied, leaving only a resigned Emily and a rapt Tinker, who gazed up at Casey and said, " _I'd_ like to hear your plans for the washrooms."

*****

The post-disastrous-speech argument was long, and lasted until the bell rang for class, so Emily didn't get a chance to talk to Derek until later.

She finally tracked him down at lunchtime, and made her way over to the table where he and Tinker were poring over Casey's campaign posters.

"Okay – why?" she asked, as she sat down next to them.

"I know," Derek said, still staring down at the posters as if they had personally insulted him. "I mean she mentions toilets and waste on these – way to send the wrong message."

"I meant more – you and Casey, running for student council president…why?"

Derek was silent for a moment, before offering an evasive, "Truth, justice and the Canadian way?"

Emily ignored this. "Just – when we talked about it yesterday, you didn't seem interested at all. And now, today…you are, _and_ you're talking Casey into running? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I figured you'd try to talk me out of it. Wouldn't you have?"

"Well, yeah," she admitted. "But I would have come around. Eventually."

"Great," Derek said. "Let me know when we're at that part, and you're okay with this." He turned back to the posters.

Emily sighed. "I am okay with it. But…why Casey?"

"What?"

"Why Casey? Why did you ask Casey to run?"

"Casey Venturi represents all that's best and – and _beautiful_ about Sir John Sparrow Thompson High," Tinker cut in.

Emily stared at him. "What he said, only less…stalkery," Derek said.

"So, you're exploiting Casey's popularity and looks to win the campaign," Emily said slowly.

Derek nodded.

"Oh." Emily stared at the poster-strewn table for a moment. Dozens of Caseys looked back at her. "Why didn't you ask _me_?"

"What?"

"Why didn't you ask me?" she repeated. She frowned at Casey's photocopied photogenic smile. "I mean, you were looking for someone hot to exploit…and your mind just – jumped straight to Casey? Why not me?"

Tinker suddenly became extremely interested in unwrapping the layer of saran wrap from his tuna sandwich.

Derek looked blindsided for a moment, but he rallied. "You wouldn't have gone for it," he said.

"No," she agreed. "But did you even think about asking me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Be…cause," Derek sounded nonplussed, blindsided, but he rallied. "This is going to involve guys leering at someone, and I don't want it to be you."

"Right," Emily said, nodding in seeming agreement. "So…you don't think guys leer at me anyway?"

Tinker stared down at his unwrapped sandwich for a moment, before starting to rewrap it with nervous fingers.

"I didn't say that," he defended. He hastily moved on. "Anyway, you're missing the most important point."

Emily folded her arms. "I am?"

"Yes," he told her. "Me and Casey – working together. I mean, weren't you just saying that I should swallow my pride and let Casey help me out?" He held out his palms as if to say 'voila!' "I'm following your advice."

She stared at him for a moment before her face softened. "I guess," she conceded.

Tinker darted a cautious glance between them, and began unwrapping his sandwich again.

Derek relaxed and put his arm around her. "Anyway, you have a vital part to play in this campaign."

"I do?"

"Of course," he assured her. "Who else is going to be Casey's stylist? The basic look we're working for this campaign is 'short' and 'tight', so if you come up with a list of suitable items in Casey's wardrobe, we can get started" –

Emily shrugged out from under his arm. "Let me get this straight," she said, almost calmly. "First of all, when you need a hot girl, you go to Casey, instead of me. And now, you expect me to choose sexy outfits for her?"

She turned to Tinker. "Tinker – can I have your sandwich?"

"Well, actually, I was just about to" – he began. Emily ignored him, taking the sandwich and carefully peeling the slices apart. The boys watched.

"Emily, what are you" –

– was as far as Derek got, before Emily's hands shot out and he was interrupted by a faceful of tuna and bread. The other slice was deposited firmly on top of his head. She mashed the bread and filling thoroughly against his face, and patted his head hard, before letting the slices fall to the floor.

Then, she rose to her feet. "Thanks, Tinker," she said, before stomping away.

Derek spluttered, then slowly wiped a hand down his face. He regarded the tuna and sauce left on his palm with bewilderment.

"I think I might know why you're not more popular," Tinker said thoughtfully.

*****

"That _is_ a pickle," Paul said, looking at him with concern.

Derek sighed. "I know – and that's not even the worst part!"

"I meant – behind your ear. You have a pickle behind your ear," Paul clarified.

Derek shook his head in exasperation, dislodging the preserved vegetable. "There. Now, can we please focus on the _real_ problem?"

Contrite, Paul nodded. "I'm all ears," he assured Derek.

"Okay, where was I?"

*****

"Thanks, Tinker," Emily said, before stomping…two tables over, where, flanked by Shleppettes, Sheldon dined.

Before she could think better of it, she marched right up to him and said, in a voice that was meant to carry, "Is your offer still open?"

Sheldon, who had had a prime seat to Derek's serving of tuna-fish surprise, leapt to an optimistic conclusion. "Of course, Emily. Now that you've ditched your, ah, dead weight," he raised his eyebrows significantly, "I am fully prepared to sweep you off your feet – starting right now."

He regarded her for a second, frowning in the direction of her folded arms. "You should probably wash your hands first, though," he advised. "The smell of tuna is"–

"Not _that_ offer," Emily told him, keeping her voice almost even, as she spoke through her teeth. "The campaign manager thing."

Sheldon thought for a second, and cleared his throat. "The one with mandatory kissi" – he began.

Emily held up a hand. "Condition number one – no kissing," she told him firmly. "Just some…good old-fashioned campaigning. Whatever that involves," she finished, suddenly sounding considerably less sure of herself.

He regarded her, before deciding, "I like your attitude, and I feel that this will bring us closer together as a couple" –

"Well, it's not like it could push us any further apart," Emily allowed.

" – you're hired!"

"Good," Emily said, "Meet me later and we'll discuss the rest of my conditions."

"More conditions?" he asked.

"Just one," she promised. "Well, maybe two," she said, as her eyes flicked from one Shleppette to the other.

Then, head held high and without once making eye-contact with Derek, she walked out of the cafeteria.

Where she stopped, eyes widening as a horrible thought struck her. "Oh, no! _Casey_!"

*****

"It does sound like you have a problem," Paul acknowledged.

"I know," Derek groaned. "It's not like I was planning on slacking or anything, but now? Now I _have_ to beat Shlepper."

"Exactly," Paul agreed. "There are obviously deep-seated issues that you and Emily need to…" he stopped. "I'm sorry – did you just say you _have_ to beat Sheldon Shlepper?"

Derek stared at him. "Of course. What else has this session been about?"

"You and Emily and the strain a lack of meaningful communication has put on your relationship?" Paul suggested.

Derek continued staring. "No. It's about beating Sheldon Shlepper."

"Huh," Paul said. "Okay."

"So what I'm thinking is" –

"Really? It's not even a little bit about you and Emily? Not even _this_ much?" Paul asked, holding his thumb and his forefinger an infinitesimal distance apart. "Just – I'm not usually so far off base."

Derek regarded Paul narrowly, but grudgingly admitted, "…okay, maybe it's a _little_ bit about me and Emily."

Satisfied, Paul sat back in his chair.

Derek warned him, "Don't make the 'ahhh' sound. If you make the 'ahhh' sound, I'm out of here."

Lips already pursing in readiness to make the 'ahhh' sound, Paul valiantly desisted.

"It's still mostly about beating Shlepper," Derek told him. He frowned as he thought. "But," he said slowly, "I guess beating Shlepper is about making Emily respect me."

"Why do you think that Emily doesn't respect you now?" Paul asked.

Derek blinked at him. In a tone of voice that suggested that Paul was ridiculously stupid, he explained, "She's Shlepper's _campaign manager_. She chose _Shlepper_ over me. She obviously doesn't believe I can win this thing."

"Maybe," Paul said. "But…correct me if I'm wrong – I thought that Emily chose Sheldon because _you_ chose Casey instead of her."

"But I only chose Casey because I wanted to win this thing."

"And you didn't think you could win it with Emily?" he asked.

"I didn't think about it like that," Derek defended.

"So how did you think of it?"

"It's not like I chose Casey _instead of_ her. I mean, I never even thought about asking Emily."

Paul digested this in silence.

"And that's…better?" he asked, sounding unsure.

"Of course!"

"How?"

"Because – I…it…"

Paul nodded in encouragement, but even though Derek opened and closed his mouth several more times, the words apparently refused to come out. Abruptly, he changed tack. "We're getting off track here, Paul. Who cares about _why_ this is happening – that's not important. We _should_ be talking about how I'm going to fix this!"

"Engaging in honest, open discussion about your relationship, with Emily?" Paul suggested. Even though he sounded hopeful, it was the kind of hope that strongly suspects it will be dashed.

Incomprehension was written on every line of Derek's face. "Paul – I can't talk to her _now_. She's working for the enemy."

"Okay," Paul said. "So, instead…?"

"Instead, I'm going to _beat her_ ," Derek told him. "That's got make her respect me…right?"

*****

" _My best friend is supporting the opposition?!_ "

Emily winced under Casey's betrayed eyes. "I'm sorry, Case – I didn't mean to" –

" – walk over to the opposition's table and volunteer to be his campaign manager?"

"Actually…yeah," Emily admitted. "That just…sort of happened."

"How does something like that 'just sort of happen'?" Casey asked. She bit her lip. "It's my recycling policy, isn't it? I know I was unclear on some of the details, but" –

"No! You were – very clear on that. And on everything else. Very…thorough."

Casey didn't seem appeased. "Is Sheldon more eco-friendly than I am? You can be honest." She closed her eyes as if in anticipation of pain.

"I don't know," Emily told her. "I only did it because I got _so mad_ at Derek. I wanted to teach him a lesson and I just – I didn't think, Case."

"Okay, well, _that_ I can understand," Casey admitted. Her shoulders slumped. "Except for the part where my best friend is now running my opponent's campaign. _That_ part kind of sucks."

"It's not like being Sheldon Shlepper's campaign manager is a dream come true for me, either. But maybe…maybe this is a good thing," Emily said slowly, as a thought struck her. "I mean, think about it – I can make sure that Sheldon doesn't pull any stupid stunts like he did this morning."

"You mean…?"

"No more free pizzas, or interrupting your speeches."

Casey thought. "I wouldn't mind that part."

"Good. So you're okay with this?"

She hesitated, but nodded. "You know something, Em? You're right. This mightn't be such a bad thing after all."

Relief was clear in Emily's voice as she said, "Exactly. We're best friends – we're not going to fight over student council elections, right?"

"Of course not! As a matter of fact, why don't we agree right now that our campaigns will be run in the spirit of friendship – respectful, honourable, and _clean_."

She held out her hand, and Emily took it. "The gloves are on," she agreed.

Solemnly, they shook on it.

*****

"Okay, I know our campaign didn't get off to the best start," Casey said, "But what I have here is going to change all that."

She held up a flyer in front of Derek and Tinker.

" _Trash-talk with Casey Venturi_ ," Derek read. A look of disbelieving relief spread over his face. "Casey – that's brilliant!"

She beamed. "You like it? I got the idea from Lizzie."

"What did you find out? No, wait – let me guess. Shlepper's a closet thumb-sucker, isn't he? He looks like a thumb-sucker. _Please_ tell me you have pictures."

"What are you talking about?" Casey asked.

Derek blinked. "Your smear campaign. Trash-talk with Casey Venturi? You have dirt on Shlepper, right?"

She stared at him. "What?! No! I don't have dirt. And even if I did, I wouldn't use it! I'm running a clean campaign."

"No – you're _losing_ a clean campaign."

As Casey and Derek glared at each other, Tinker asked, "Okay – if 'Trash-talk with Casey Venturi' isn't an exposé on Sheldon Shlepper…what is it?"

"I'm glad you asked, Tink!"

He blushed.

"It's an afterschool talk where I discuss the details of my recycling policy."

"An _afterschool talk_?" Derek repeated. "Okay – no-one is going to listen to you 'talk trash', and you know why? _Because no-one will be there_!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do. Because a) it's a talk about recycling, that is b) held outside of school hours. No-one's going to show."

"I think you underestimate the student body," Casey argued. "Tink – you're coming, right?"

"Of course," he said, nodding vigorously, "I'll be there, front and centre."

She turned back to Derek with a triumphant, "See?"

"Tinker doesn't count," he said, unimpressed. "He'd queue up to watch you drink juice."

"Thanks, Derek," Tinker muttered, casting a betrayed glance at him.

"You're obviously in way over your head," he said. "Look – you're expecting people to care about stuff just because you tell them to. Well, that's not going to happen here. No matter how popular you are, people aren't going to come over all keener just because _you_ think caring is the new black." He took the flyer from her hands. "My advice as campaign manager is – can the talk and grab a shovel. Because if we're going to win this thing without the popularity vote, we're going to need some _serious_ dirt."

Casey plucked the flyer from his fingers and said, "If you don't like how I'm running my campaign, why don't you just take your shovel…and run yourself?"

Through gritted teeth, Derek said, "You _know_ I can't do that."

Casey cupped a hand behind her ear and said, as if she were translating his words, "Oh. So you _need_ me. Well, in that case, I'd advise you to stop complaining…and start helping."

The tension built as she stared challengingly at him, until finally, Derek broke eye-contact and said, "Fine. If you insist on doing _this_ ," he gestured at the flyer, "Can you at least schedule it during school hours? Maybe while we're supposed to be having that Spanish pop quiz?"

Casey considered this. "Done."

With a minor victory under his belt, Derek pressed forward. "And we should talk about your wardrobe."

"What's wrong with my wardrobe?" she frowned.

"Sheldon Shlepper has hot girls in _costumes_. I'm thinking you need to step it up a notch."

Casey's mouth dropped open. "I refuse to use my body in that demeaning way, just to get a few more votes."

"What kind of politician _are_ you?"

*****

"Okay, conditions two and three. No more Shleppettes."

Instead of the outrage Emily had expected, Sheldon leaned back against the lockers and gave her a knowing look. "Can't stand the sight of me with other women, huh?"

"No. It's lame," she said. "And probably a major financial drain – how much are you paying them?"

"How do you know I pay them?"

She looked at him.

"Okay, I pay them. But you don't understand – I need them."

"They're cheesy and gimmicky – you don't need that."

"Yes I do!" He looked at her, weirdly serious. "If I'm going to win this thing, I'm going to need every gimmick I've got." His lean against the lockers became less attempted cockiness and more despairing slump.

"Come on, it's…not that bad?" Emily tried.

"I'm going up against the most popular girl in the school. Yeah, it _is_ that bad."

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but – trust me on this, the Shleppettes have _got_ to go."

At his unconvinced expression, she sighed and said, "Think about it like this – I'm your campaign manager now. Would I sabotage myself?"

"I guess you're right."

Abruptly he straightened as a thought struck him. "But…you're not just my campaign manager slash first lady in waiting. You're also Casey's _best friend_."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Sheldon pulled away from the locker, and in a low voice he said, "So, you must have a mountain of dirt on Casey."

"What are you doing?" she asked, as Sheldon's hand landed on her arm, stroking from her elbow to her shoulder.

"Seducing you into giving me some dirt on Casey?" he asked hopefully.

She stared. "Stop it."

"Ah, your lips say 'stop', but your eyes say" –

Emily raised her eyebrows.

"I'll stop now," Sheldon said meekly, withdrawing his hand.

*****

"I think it went well," Casey said, as Derek opened the front door and walked in to the sitting room.

George, who was sitting on the couch, absently greeted them, then sat up slightly, a puzzled look on his face.

"Here's a clue for you – when people say 'I wish I was having that Spanish test right now', it's not going well."

George sniffed the air. "What's that cologne you're wearing, Derek?"

"Tartar sauce," Derek said absently, before dropping his bag and wandering off in search of Nora.

George nodded to himself. "Tangy." He smiled up at Casey. "So, Princess – how's the campaign going?"

"Good," she said, before the confident look slid off her face. "I think."

*****

"It doesn't sound so bad," Nora comforted as she unloaded the dryer.

Derek stared at her. "Mom – there's no way I can win this thing if Casey keeps this stupid 'serious about the issues' thing up!"

"Aw – it's nice to see you helping your stepsister. But would it really matter if you two don't win? I mean, you're already working together and supporting each other, and that's the important thing, right?"

"No! The important thing is for me to beat Emily and _her_ candidate, so that she'll respect me as a man."

Casey, who had just appeared at the door, rolled her eyes.

"Okay – what does beating Emily have to do with her seeing you as a man?" Nora asked.

"Highschool girls like guys who are winners. Guys who are assertive and take charge and – win things."

"Really? Because I thought girls liked guys who were sensitive and sweet and supportive."

"I tried that. Newsflash – it doesn't work."

"So you're going to abandon your principles just so that Emily will like you?" Nora sounded disappointed.

Derek shrugged, and Casey chose that moment to make her presence known. "I don't know why you're surprised, Nora. Derek's always been a pig in sheep's clothing."

Derek threw an irritated glance in her direction.

"I have to say – I _am_ a little surprised my son holds such essentialist notions of gender. All of a sudden."

"It's not – I'm not abandoning my principles. I just – think that there are some things that men do, and some that women do," he said, as he folded laundry absently.

*****

"So – I guess this is like our first date," Sheldon said, as he glanced around the café.

"Since this is a strategy meeting, I'd have to say…no, not really." Emily tapped her pen meaningfully off her notepad.

"You know, we could put the strategies aside, and just enjoy our date, if you would just give me" –

"No dirt," she said firmly.

Sheldon took it surprisingly well. "You know, this is why we work. You're like – the Laura to my George. Keeping me honest. Keeping me focused."

A smile touched the corners of his mouth. Emily shook her head. "Um…okay. So, I think your first step should be to work out your policies."

Sheldon made a face. "People don't seem to like those when they come from Casey. And she's popular."

"Well yeah – I don't want to be bored with long talks on recycling or waste management, but…as a voter, I think it's important for candidates to show that they're aware of the issues. In a…'five sentences or less' kind of way," she clarified.

Sheldon nodded slowly. "I can do that." He paused, then leaned forward. "Do you think it's too soon in the relationship for us to split a milkshake?"

*****

" – in conclusion, a vote for Venturi, is a vote for a cleaner, greener school. So – go green! Vote Venturi! And…time!" she whirled around to Derek.

He pressed the stopwatch and said, "Still _way_ too long. Can't you…condense?"

"I've already edited it as much as I can." Casey flopped down on her bed dispiritedly.

Derek glanced at her, before a pained expression came across his face. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but…your policies are actually go" –

Casey looked up hopefully, and he immediately backtracked, "– okay. They're – okay. But you need to hit the highlights, and leave the details until _after_ you're elected."

She considered this. "I can do that."

In the long silence that followed, they just looked at each other, for once without animosity or hostility. Finally, awkwardly, Derek said, "We're not having a Moment."

"Of course not," Casey agreed, shaking her head at just the thought.

Hastily, they looked in opposite directions.

Suddenly the door burst open, and Edwin entered. "Have you seen the latest edition of your school paper?" he asked Casey.

"No – why?"

He held it out, and Derek took it. "' ** _Flushed Away?_** Could Casey Venturi's potty mouth cost her the campaign? That's what this reviewer asks in the wake of a disastrous speech that told people more than they needed to know about the working of our school's plumbing system. Bad as the vapid 'Queen of SJST High' act was, is this faux-earnest 'one of the people' act really any better? Go green? This reviewer certainly did."

"What?" Casey's mouth opened in indignation. "I am not _vapid_. I _do_ care. And I am not faux _anything_!"

"You know, I should look into joining the paper," Derek decided. "They seem like my kind of people."

"Didn't they have _anything_ nice to say?" she asked.

Derek scanned the rest of the article. "No."

She grabbed the paper off him, to ensure he was telling the truth. "But my policies are sound – you said so yourself!"

Derek rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to say it – no-one really cares about the policies. It's all about presentation." He looked her up and down. "You know, if you wore shorter skirts, this would never have happened."

Her face hardened. "Get out!" She rolled up the paper and brandished it warningly.

Hands held up, Derek left.

Casey turned to Edwin. She bit her lip and asked, "Do you think there's a possibility that Sheldon Shlepper could beat me?"

"No, of course not."

She smiled, touched. "It really means a lot that you believe in me, Ed."

"Actually, I meant that according to my online poll, the chances of Sheldon Shlepper beating you have increased from 'possible' to 'probable'." He thrust a piece of paper at her.

"You mean Sheldon Shlepper's _probably_ going to beat me?" She examined his poll.

"There's a two percent margin of error, but – yeah."

"No! I can't let that happen!"

"Well, you'd better do something soon – because you are being _pounded_ in the polls."

As Casey lowered the paper, her eyes fell upon her wardrobe.

*****

The next morning, as Casey made her entrance into the kitchen, she was nonchalant. Unfortunately, her choice of outfit was not one that easily lent itself to nonchalance.

Nora was the first to break the silence. "Casey – that's a very, that's – your outfit is…"

"Pretty," Marti finished, approvingly.

"Thanks," Casey smiled, and poured herself some cereal.

Nora nudged George out of his fearful daze. "George – don't you have anything to say about Casey's…" she swallowed, "…new look?"

He gulped. "Casey – that's a very…" he broke off and with hesitant hope, he asked, "Did…all your clothes shrink in the wash?"

Casey frowned. "Is something wrong, Dad?"

"You're not wearing clothes," Edwin told her.

"Great," Lizzie said. "I guess this means we're turning up the heating. At this rate, our environmental footprint is going to be bigger than Bigfoot's." She noted something down on her clipboard and shook her head.

Casey looked down at herself. "Don't be silly, guys. Of course I'm wearing clothes."

"Not many," he said, then frowned. His eyes widened and he pointed an accusing finger. "Babe-raider!"

Casey suddenly became extremely interested in her bowl of cereal. "What?"

"You're wearing a Babe-raider outfit!"

"I am not!" she denied, then, "And how do you even know about Babe-raider? That game is PG-13. Dad – this is why I gave you that list of age-appropriate video games!"

George looked guilty.

"What? So I can't _play_ Babe-raider, but you can _dress_ like her?"

Nora cleared her throat. "As important as the video-game issue is…I can't help but feel we're losing sight of the – main issue. Now, I don't want to come over all evil-stepmom, Casey, but don't you think that outfit is a little" –

Derek, who had been attentively following the conversation, chose this moment to interrupt. "Empowering!" he said. "Mom, I could not agree more."

"Yeeaah – empowering really wasn't the word I was going for. No offence, Casey."

"Really?" Derek appeared shocked. "Because – and I say this as someone who's had his differences with Casey – what could be more empowering than _this_?" he gestured towards Casey's all-black, belly-baring ensemble.

"Oh, I could think of a few things," Nora said.

"On a superficial level, yeah, but…look deeper," Derek told her. "Peel back the layers."

George clutched the counter-top with white fingers.

" _This_ is the new face of feminism. Casey is declaring ownership of her own body," he continued, "She's confident enough to play with societal expectations of how women should present themselves. Shouldn't that kind of confidence be celebrated in a world that tries to regulate and suppress female agency?" he asked persuasively.

"I'm all for female agency," Nora said, "I just can't help thinking that that outfit is going to cause trouble for Casey – you don't want your stepsister to be objectified, do you?"

"Of course not! It's not like I find _this_ ," he gave Casey a thorough once-over, before briskly shaking his head, " _appealing_ in any way. At all. But by policing Casey's right to physically express her femininity, don't you think you're being narrow-minded and judgmental?"

"I am?"

"Casey doesn't need a tool of the patriarchy, Mom. She needs an _ally_." Kindly, Derek told her, "Feminism is an evolving field – groundbreaking as it was, things have moved on from _The Feminine Mystique_." He put a comforting hand on Nora's shoulder. "I have a book I think you should read – _Listen Up! Voices from the Next Feminist Generation_. It's on my bookshelf. I think it'll help you engage with these issues in a more informed way."

"I – thanks, honey," Nora said. After a moment, the confused expression slid off her face and she held up a finger, "But, don't you think" –

"Mom, as much as I would love to stay and debate these issues with you, Casey and I really should be going. You don't want us to be late for class, right?"

He grabbed hold of Casey's elbow and hustled her out of the kitchen, leaving the other occupants staring after them in dazed silence.

Finally, Edwin said, "If Casey's the new face of feminism, that means Babe-raider's on the approved game list, right?"

As soon as they were out the door, Casey turned to Derek and said, "You know, that was almost smooth. For you."

"Thanks. That means a lot to me, coming from a sexist video-game character."

She raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. "Oh please, you're just bitter because Nora never let you play it."

"I admit this is probably a more viable voting policy than 'boring people to death'," he allowed.

"'Probably'?" she asked. "Judging by Sam's reaction whenever he played Babe-raider, I'm thinking that student council position has my name all over it." She smirked triumphantly before stopping in the middle of the footpath. In a more serious tone, she said, "I can't believe you know so much about feminism."

Derek flicked his eyes over her outfit once more. "Right now, I'm more of a feminist than you are, Princess," he told her as he stepped in front of her.

*****

Emily was at her locker, when Sheldon suddenly appeared. "How would you feel if I told you we were going to win this election?"

Emily thought about it. "Sceptical," she decided.

With a flourish, he held out two small slips of paper.

Emily squinted at them, before looking up at Sheldon with disbelief. "Sheldon – these are Coldspray tickets! How did you even get these – I thought they were all sold out!"

Sheldon preened. "I have my ways. So – I take it you're down with the 'Coldspray with Shlepper' campaign?"

"Do you realize what this means?" Emily asked, staring at the tickets. "I mean, we let people know you have tickets to Coldspray and you'll walk this election!"

"I know!"

"Sheldon – this is perfect! With this kind of advantage, there's no way we can lose!" Her face fell. "Except…we can't use these."

Sheldon blinked at her. "Emily – campaign manager of my heart, I know you're new to the political scene, but…this is how elections work. If a candidate has an advantage – like, say, Coldspray tickets for example – _he uses it_."

"This is a clean campaign Sheldon. And this," she waved a hand at the offending tickets, "isn't fighting fair."

"I'm not smearing Casey," he argued, "I'm just" –

"Bribing people to vote for you instead of her?" Emily finished. She stared pleadingly at him, until, with a groan, he gave in. "Okay. No 'Coldspray with Shlepper'."

She smiled at him.

Sheldon fidgeted with the tickets. "But – you're sure that _Casey's_ on board with this clean campaign?"

"Of course," Emily said. "Why?"

"Because when I passed her in the hall a couple of minutes ago, it looked like she was using all her advantages to her advantage." He raised his eyebrows significantly at her.

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

*****

"Would you…say it again?" Tinker asked, staring at Casey with breathless adoration. A crowd of boys nodded in approval of his suggestion.

"Of course," she said. She planted her feet apart and pointed her joined index fingers in front of her, like a gun. "I'm hot…on the issues."

"…wow," Tinker said in a small voice.

"Big Babe-raider fan, huh?" she asked.

"I don't know what that is," Tinker said, gazing dreamily at her. "Would you say it again?"

As Casey prepared to aim her new campaign slogan again, she was interrupted by her best friend.

"Casey – can I talk to you for a moment?" Emily asked, hands on her hips as her eyes flicked from Casey to the Babe-raider fan club.

"Of course, Em." She waved goodbye to the cluster of boys. "See you guys at the polling stations!"

Emily pulled her around the corner, then just stood back from her, arms folded across her chest, taking her in. Casey suddenly felt a little uncomfortable.

"Nice to see you're enjoying this," Emily said finally.

Casey blinked. "What? Me – enjoy working with Derek? Are you crazy?"

"I wasn't talking about that," Emily said. She gestured at Casey's clothes. "So –this is your clean campaign."

"My outfit? I just…felt like trying something new, that's all."

Emily eyed her with a healthy dose of cynical-best-friend, and Casey caved.

"Fine, you got me. I don't want to lose the election."

"Oh great," Emily said flatly. "It's over-competitive Casey."

Casey's shoulders went up defensively. "Okay – so I like to win. I don't see what" –

"No, you have an obsessive _need_ to win. And – you always do." Emily said it like she was stating a fact.

"You think? Thanks."

"You don't get it – that wasn't a compliment."

Casey frowned. "Get what? I know we're not on the same side, Em, but this is a competition, and" –

"'Hey, look – dance classes. They sound like fun – we should go, Emily.'"

Casey stared at her. "Em?"

"'Wow – Casey's a natural. She should really consider advanced classes.'" Emily stared her down, and kept going. "'Let's try out for the school musical!' 'Casey has an amazing voice – has she thought about voice-training?' 'Hey, Emily – you know what we should do?'" –

"But you never even wanted to dance – or be in the school musical."

"That's not what I'm saying," Emily shook her head in frustration.

"Then –what are you saying?" Casey asked, suddenly going very still.

"I'm saying," Emily bit her lip as if she was unsure of whether or not to actually verbalise it, "I'm saying that sometimes…it's really hard to be your friend, Casey."

She walked away, leaving Casey standing alone in the corridor.

*****

As she walked faster and faster down the hall, she was determined not to let it matter. Or, if it did matter, to at least let Casey's actions spur her to productive 'getting even' type anger. Accordingly, as she passed Sheldon, she said, voice firm and steady, "You should get on that 'Coldspray with Shlepper' campaign.'"

Then she wheeled around and walked determinedly into the bathrooms and productively locked herself into a stall.

Sheldon kept popping up during the day, bumping into her between classes, even for subjects they didn't have together.

"Do you have my schedule memorized, or something?" she asked him, exasperated, as she pushed past him and into French class.

"Yes," he said, without batting an eyelid. He followed her, only to be ejected by the teacher.

But by the end of the day, she was so worn down, when he appeared at the door of her final class, she allowed him to walk with her.

"You didn't say anything about the tickets," she observed. She would have heard about it if he had.

"No."

"That's probably a good thing," she said. He looked at her. "That way, you can spring it on everyone during the debate tomorrow. Of course, Casey will probably schedule a bikini cover-shoot or something, but at least we'll have given it our best shot." She tried to keep her voice light and matter of fact.

"I wanted to make sure you were completely okay with it," he said.

"I said I was okay with it, didn't I?"

"Yeah. After you made me promise I wouldn't do it. There were some mixed messages."

She shrugged. "It's like you said – it's our one big advantage." She sighed. "And, knowing Casey, we're still probably going to lose. I'm sorry, Sheldon."

To her horror, her chin wobbled. Sheldon eyed her with concern, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Emily. There'll be other campaigns," he said comfortingly.

"It's not that," she said. Deep down inside, some part of her pointed out that she was confiding in _Sheldon Shlepper_ of all people. She kept going anyway. "It's not…I mean, Casey's _Casey_ , and I get that, but…" she shook her head, "Even my boyfriend, the one guy who's obligated to think I'm the most amazing girl in the world – even _he_ picks Casey over me. And he doesn't even like Casey!"

She stared hard at the ground. "I just…I'm tired of always being second-best."

There was a beat, before Sheldon admitted, "I know what you mean."

She looked up. "You do?"

"Yeah. Even if I somehow win this election – it's won’t be a win. It's a family hand-me-down. If people vote for me, it won't be because I'm Sheldon, it'll be because I'm a Shlepper, and this is what Shleppers are for." With a twist of his mouth, he confided, "Politically speaking, I'm just a lesser-known Kennedy."

"Then why are you running?" Emily asked.

He shrugged, then offered her a folder.

"What's this?"

"My policies."

She ran her fingers across the front of the folder. "You actually did it? You took my advice?"

He inclined his head. "You know – you shouldn't feel like you're second best," he told her.

She tried for wry, but underneath it, there was this weird, ridiculous hope that Sheldon Shlepper might actually have the Answer to her second-best blues. "Oh yeah? Why not?"

"Because…you make me want to be a better p" –

"I make you want to be a better person?" Emily finished softly, eyes intent on his.

He shook his head. "No."

"Oh."

"You make me want to be a better _politician_ ," he corrected.

For some reason, Emily felt bizarrely flattered.

*****

"Okay, normally I wouldn't be complaining – but what's with the silent treatment?" Derek asked, as they walked in the front door. "You got everyone with a y chromosome back on side and all you had to do was stand there. You should be happy."

Casey turned to him, the same thoughtful look on her face that in Derek's experience meant trouble, and asked, "Do you think I'm ruthless and overly competitive?"

He stared at her blankly. "Why do you think I asked you to run?"

Her face fell.

Derek sighed and tried another approach. "You're acting like that's a bad thing – but it's not. It's an asset. If you didn't want to win so badly, you couldn't have turned the polls around in a day." He held up the latest opinion poll, the one that showed a marked appreciation for politics, Babe-raider style.

She took it out of his hands without even looking at it. "I can't do this anymore," she said. "I'm quitting."

"You're what?!"

"I'm quitting."

He stared at her, disbelieving. "You can't quit now – the debate is tomorrow!"

At the expression on his face, she hastily explained, "Derek, it's nothing personal – I need to lose so that Emily will be my friend."

"Aren't you forgetting something? _I_ need to win so that Emily will respect me."

"But if I win, Emily will think I don't value our friendship. So I _have_ to quit. You understand, right?"

There was a long, unnerving moment where Derek refused to break eye-contact. Inwardly, she squirmed, as her hitherto comfortable Babe-raider costume began to feel tight and constricting.

"Yeah, I understand," he said finally. "I understand that I should never ask you for a favour again."

With that parting shot, he was already halfway to his room, feet thumping loudly on the stairs.

Casey sank down onto the couch.

*****

When Lizzie opened the door to Derek's room, she was greeted with – darkness.

She squinted and as her eyes adjusted she could make out a vague Derek-shape, lying face-down on the bed.

"Saving electricity – excellent," she noted. "At least one McDonald-Venturi isn't an environmental disaster."

She sat on the edge of the bed. "One out of seven. That's not so bad, right?" Her voice indicated otherwise.

"Two," Derek said, voice muffled.

"What?"

"Two," he rolled over. "You're not an environmental disaster either. That makes two."

"Yeah…" Lizzie drew out the word, staring down at the floor. "Except…I'm a fraud."

"You're a fraud?" Derek sat up.

She nodded, ashamed. "I'm this household's biggest drain on our Earth's resources."

"Are you sure about that? Remember – we live with four-flush Edwin."

"Believe me, I'm sure," Lizzie said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

"I didn't see that one coming," he mused.

"Please – promise me you won't tell anyone," she begged. "I can't take the humiliation."

"Don't worry – I've got enough humiliation on my plate right now. I'm in no mood to dish it out."

She frowned. "What" – she began, only to be interrupted by a soft knock on the door, and Nora poking her head in.

"Hey guys – what are you doing?" she asked, as she flicked on the light switch.

"Conserving energy," Lizzie said, squinting accusingly at Nora. "Unlike some members of this household."

"Contemplating failure," Derek said, falling back onto the bed. He spoke into his pillow. "I am definitely going to lose the election. And probably Emily, the way things are going."

Lizzie and Nora exchanged a look.

He turned. "You can break out the inspirational speeches now."

Nora played with the end of the bedspread. "Okay –maybe you lose. But – so what?"

"Emily breaks up with me and starts dating someone 'more on her level'," he said, grimacing. "You know, this doesn't seem very inspiring so far."

"I mean…maybe you need to look at this differently."

Derek didn't say anything, but he made a small 'go on' gesture with his hand.

"Maybe…this isn't about you losing, as much as…Emily winning." Nora paused. "And you being enough of a man to congratulate her, reminding her of why she likes you in the first place." She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

He thought about this, frowning. "I don't know," he said, eventually. "I mean, it sounds good, but…" he forced the words out, "this isn't the first time this popularity thing's been an issue. It keeps coming up. It's important to Emily, and I don't know if this 'being nice' thing is going to cut it."

Nora considered this. "It can't hurt to try," she said, eventually. "Come on – we'll help out, won't we, Lizard?"

Lizzie nodded and put out her hand. "Team McDonald."

"Team McDonald," Nora echoed, placing her palm on top of Lizzie's hand. They both looked at Derek.

He looked down at their hands and groaned. "Do I have to?"

*****

George hesitated for a moment at the entrance to the living room, staring with a certain amount of trepidation at the top of Casey's head, visible over the couch. Finally, he shook himself and strode towards her.

"Casey," he began, "We need to ta" – he stopped. "Oh, you're wearing clothes again." He sank onto the other side of the couch, relief clear in the sprawl of his body. "In that case, never mind."

Casey didn't acknowledge him, instead she played with the cuffs of her pajamas in silence, damp hair falling around her face.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting for my hair to dry. Lizzie's banned all unnecessary electrical appliances." She picked up her hairbrush from the couch cushion, then set it down. "Actually, Dad," she said, looking over at him, "I have a problem."

"Do you need more clothes? I can buy you more clothes," he assured her.

"It's not that," she told him. "It's the campaign."

"Not going well?" he asked.

"No – it's going great. That's the problem. Well, part of it." She worried her fingernail. "I…really wanted to win school president," she said, like she was admitting a secret. "Not because I'm Casey Venturi, and I'm popular, but – because people think I'd do a good job."

"That doesn't sound like a problem," George said. "It sounds very mature."

"Yeah. Except – that didn't work. No-one wanted to hear about my policies and it looked like I was going to lose."

"Well, at least you tried. Even if it didn't work out, you did your best," George said. "And I'm proud of you, Princess."

"I'm not finished," Casey told him. She sighed. "I didn't want to lose, so I…got competitive. Maybe – too competitive. And I'm afraid that I might have bent the rules and hurt my best friend's feelings all so that I still had a shot at winning."

George deflated. "Okay, that's not so good."

"So I've decided to quit the campaign," she said, looking down as she pressed the tips of her fingers against the bristles of her hairbrush.

He digested this in silence for a few moments before concluding, "Well, it sounds like you did the right thing, Case." He leaned over and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I know it wasn't easy, but I'm proud" –

"But if I did the right thing, then why don't I feel good about it?" she asked. "I mean, why am I worrying about Derek and" –

"You're worrying about Derek?" George asked, confused.

"No!" she denied immediately, "Of course not." She turned over her hairbrush in her hands. "Just – I told him I'd run, and…and you know Derek. Any excuse to give me a hard time."

George put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She resisted a little at first, but finally settled, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You want to know what I think?" he asked.

She made an assenting noise.

"I think," he said, resting his head against hers, "that I can trust you to do the right thing. And I think you should know that, whatever happens, I'm going to be proud of you."

"Dad!" she wailed, pulling away from him, "That doesn't help me at all!"

*****

Derek slipped out of the house early the next morning, the better to avoid Casey, Breaker of Bargains.

"She's really quitting?" Tinker asked him, sounding dejected. "I can't believe it. She was amazing - she really brought new meaning to the phrase, 'the body politic'."

"Yeah well, believe it," Derek told him, ignoring the last part of Tinker's statement and closing his locker door a little harder than necessary. "Because she was really clear yesterday, when she decided she couldn't take the crushing pressure of certain victory."

"So what happens now?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess she'll bow out gracefully at the debate today. It's the most efficient way to totally emasculate me." He winced at the prospect then said, not entirely convincingly, "I don't care. At least I'm done with the Casey-circus."

Except it turned out that the Casey-circus wasn't done with him. Because when he dragged his feet to the debate –

"What do you mean she hasn't showed?" he hissed at Tinker, who cast a nervous eye at the assembled students, who were beginning to shuffle impatiently in their seats.

"I mean she hasn't shown up. Is she even at school today – I haven't seen her all morning."

Derek frowned. "I don't know – I left early."

"Well I can't put it off any longer – I have to start. And since Casey doesn't seem to be here, you're just going to have to go up there and explain."

"Explain? Explain what? Tinker!" Derek grabbed at him, but just missed, and Tinker scurried up to the podium and announced, "Welcome to JS Thompson's presidential debate. Normally we would begin with opening remarks, but first, an important message from Casey Venturi's campaign manager. Please welcome Derek McDonald to the stage!"

He gestured towards Derek, cringing in the third row.

He didn't plan on getting up, but the whispering grew louder, and someone poked him in the back with their finger, and suddenly, his leaden feet were slowly making their way towards the stage.

Tinker nodded encouragingly at him and directed him to the stand beside Sheldon's.

He looked at the microphone, that had looked like a normal microphone from his seat in the audience, but up close seemed out of proportion and enormous. He licked his dry lips and said, "My, uh, my candidate is, uh…"

A sea of blurry faces stared up at him and as his stomach churned, he lost track of what he was saying.

He swallowed and tried again. "My candidate is uh"–

"Running a little late," finished Casey's voice. He turned his head and found that she was suddenly, miraculously, standing beside him. She fixed him with an unreadable look, before shifting forward, attention abruptly focused on the audience. "But I'm here now, so…we can begin."

"Okay," Tinker said, "Then we'll start with opening remarks." He spread his hands, gesturing at both Sheldon and Casey, before making his way off the stage. Derek followed him.

"I guess she's still running," Tinker murmured in his ear as they found their seats. "What happened?"

"I have no idea," Derek managed, still staring at Casey, who smiled at Sheldon and asked, "Can I go first?"

Sheldon inclined his head, and Casey turned back to the audience and said, "You know, when I chose to run for student council president," her eyes met Derek's for a brief second, "I decided that I didn't want this to be a popularity contest. If I won, I wanted to do it honestly. So I came up with all these policies and ideas and – and manifestos. But…that didn't exactly go so well," she made a face, and a few people in the audience laughed, but not meanly.

"So I decided that – winning was the important thing. Because once I won, then I could prove to everyone that they made the right choice and that I deserved to be school president." She paused. "But – I think I just made things complicated, when really, it's simple. You know me, and you know Sheldon, and…you should just vote for whoever you think will make a good school president." She shrugged and gave the floor to Sheldon.

In the audience, as Sheldon took a breath, Tinker launched into the usual Casey appreciation speech, beginning with, "She's the most amazing, most wonderful…"

Derek kept his eyes glued to the stage and, just this once, didn't correct him.

*****

Maybe it was strange that when he caught up with Casey after the big debate, the first thing he said wasn't 'Thank you.' But then again, he was pretty sure his gratitude had come across loud and clear in the seconds after she'd stepped up to the podium. In fact, thinking back on it, he had an uncomfortable suspicion that he had probably stared at her with the same dumbfounded appreciation that Tinker usually did.

So instead, his first words to her were, "You might lose."

She shrugged. "I said I'd run – I never promised I'd win."

"But what if you do?" he asked, switching tack, eyes flicking over to Emily, standing with Sheldon further down the hall.

She caught his meaning, and said, simply, "I've got it covered."

His face wanted to stretch into the stupid Tinker expression again, but he sternly resisted.

*****

"I'm a little surprised you didn't mention the Coldspray tickets," Emily said.

Sheldon shrugged. "You said you thought I had a shot at winning."

She very carefully didn't point out that that had been _with_ the tickets. Instead she said, "I can't believe you believed me."

"And I can't believe that you don't believe me when I say I believe you," Sheldon countered. "Trust is the most important thing in a relationship."

She shook her head, but in tolerant amusement. "Sheldon…"

"Come out with me tonight," he said suddenly.

The smile slid off her face. "Sheldon - I" –

"For a – victory celebration," he explained.

"But the results won't be out until tomorrow."

"That's why I think we should celebrate tonight."

"I can't, Sheldon – I'm sorry."

"What's the big deal? It's not like it would be a date…for you." He blinked at her, eyes wide and pleading.

Emily looked at him. "Are you trying to make yourself seem more pathetic to get a pity date?"

Sheldon considered this. "That depends – will it in any way affect your answer if I say yes?"

She rolled her eyes, but took hold of his wrist and pulled him towards the cafeteria. "Come on – this time, the mystery meat's on me."

*****

"You really think that, Tinker?"

"Of course," Tinker said. "You were so beautiful – I mean…compelling, up there. I really think you could win this."

She smiled, but became serious when she turned to Derek, who was watching Emily and Sheldon, sitting at a table across the cafeteria.

"Okay," she said, "Please don't take this as approval of your relationship with Emily, because it's not, but…the sooner you two make up, the closer I am to having my regular lunch partner back. You should go over there."

"Or maybe he should stay here and - and give her some space!" Tinker interjected, darting his eyes frantically at Derek and jerking his head at Casey.

Derek didn't answer.

"She's having lunch with _Sheldon Shlepper_ ," Casey pointed out. "Even if you guys haven't made up – believe me, she'll thank you for interrupting."

"Yeah," Derek agreed.

Casey waited. "Don't you want to go over there?"

"Yeah."

She frowned. "So, why aren't you going?"

"I don't know," he said, eyes still on Emily, all the way across the cafeteria.

*****

The morning of the election results was a tense one. Well, sort of.

"Derek, honey, you haven't touched your breakfast," Nora said, eyeing him with concern.

"Maybe that's for the best, mom," Lizzie said, warily eyeing Derek's thoroughly stirred cereal. "You know how he upchucks in times of crisis – remember Cousin Vicky's thirteenth birthday party?"

"He has a sensitive constitution," Nora defended.

"Ew," Casey said, pushing away her own breakfast. "I wouldn't have believed it, but way to make 'being sensitive' a turn off, Derek."

Derek looked up from his contemplation of his cereal bowl. "Hm?"

Casey sighed and got to her feet. "Come on. Let's just go and get this over with."

*****

As they stood in the hallway, waiting, Sheldon said, "Emily, I just wanted to say that…if I lose, I'll probably be blaming it on ineffective management, but that's just a face-saving strategy."

"Thanks," Emily said. "I think."

She glanced down the corridor, where Casey and Derek were waiting. Derek managed to look right in her direction without Emily ever feeling that he was actually looking at her, while Casey stared at her with an expression she couldn't quite make out, and almost without volition, Emily took a tiny step towards them.

Then, suddenly, Tinker's voice was issuing from the speaker system. "Attention, fellow students of Thompson High, the election results are in – and it gives me great pleasure to announce that…Casey Venturi is your new school president. On behalf of the school, and – and myself – congratulations, Casey!"

A murmur rose from various students in the corridor, and a congratulatory crowd began to form around Casey.

"You won?" Derek seemed stunned.

"I won!" Casey seemed just as stunned. She stared at Derek, and he shifted uneasily. "Don't take this the wrong way," she said, "This is nothing personal, but I just won, and I really need to hug someone right now."

The thing was – Nora was a touchy feely, ruffle-your-hair, would-you-like-that-sandwich-with-a-side-order-of-hugs? type mom. Lizzie wasn't super-girly or anything, but he did his fair share of hugging with her too. And Marti was a cuddler, and didn't discriminate much between biological and blended family.

So Derek didn't really have any explanation as to why, when confronted with Casey's threat of physical affection, his hand shot out and he thrust a random bystander in her direction.

Except, of course, that he didn't like Casey, which was explanation enough for anything. Obviously.

The random bystander turned out to have a microphone and a list of questions. "Hi, Ellen-Marie Hannigan, school paper. Any words you'd like to share with readers on your victory?"

"Actually, yes," Casey said. "I'd like to say – were you the one who wrote the editorial about me being a total fake?" She shook her head, "Sorry – that's not important…but by the way, ' _hah_ '. Anyway, I'd just like to say, thank you to everyone who voted for me. Thank you for believing in me and giving me a chance to prove myself." She paused. "Unfortunately, I'm going to have to turn it down. I cede the election."

The crowd buzzed like disbelieving wasps.

"You _what_?" Derek interrupted.

"Any reason for this sudden change of heart?" Ellen-Marie asked.

Casey spoke right into the microphone, eyes searching through the crowd until they landed on Emily, who was standing with her arms folded. "I just…decided that some things were more important than winning the student council elections. Things like – friendship, and" –

Emily's stance softened, but Casey didn't get to finish her speech as a figure barrelled through the assembled students. Suddenly Sheldon Shlepper grabbed the microphone off Casey, and said, "So I win! If you cede the election, as the only other opposing candidate, I win by default!"

"I guess," Ellen-Marie told him, sounding unenthused. She sighed and said, "Okay, I guess the next edition is going to be a Shlepper-special. Any words you'd like to share with us, Mr. President?"

As Sheldon launched into what promised to be a long speech, Casey pushed her way past clumps of students until she was standing in front of Emily, who said, "Nice speech."

"There was more," Casey told her. "But Sheldon interrupted." She couldn't help the peeved note that crept into her voice.

"Sheldon's not so bad," Emily defended. "Anyway, I liked it. Your speech, I mean."

"So, are we friends again?" Casey asked. She didn't sound at all unsure that they _would_ be friends, more wry about the ridiculousness of even having to ask.

"Of course," Emily said, smiling in a slightly embarrassed way. "It's not like we'd let something like student council elections come between us, right?"

They hugged.

When Emily pulled back, she asked, "So where's your campaign manager?"

Casey looked around. "I don't know. He was here a few minutes ago."

"I'll go look – I should probably straighten things out with him."

"Probably," Casey agreed. She hesitated, then as Emily turned to leave, she called her back. "Em? Maybe I shouldn't say this – and please don't take this as some kind of approval for your relationship, because it isn't – but, you do know that Derek did all this, for _you_?"

*****

Post explanation, and after Emily had gone to find Derek, leaving Casey with a severe case of what she told herself were post-election blues, she turned, and –

"Ah!"

\- found herself face to face with Sheldon Shlepper, who seemed unphased by her surprise. She pressed a hand to her still racing heart and asked, as she regarded the suddenly empty corridor, "What happened? Where did everyone go?"

"They left when I started to expand on my two year improvement plan. Where's Emily?"

"Looking for Derek."

"Oh," he said.

Even though Casey had never been in a situation where her feelings for someone else weren't requited, she found it strangely easy to imagine how he was feeling. She imagined it felt a lot like post-election blues.

"Sheldon" – she began.

"Hey," he said, looking up from the floor and making a valiant attempt to shrug off his disappointment. He looked critically at her. "Okay, you're no Emily Davis, but…how would you like to go to a Coldspray concert with me?"

He held up the tickets as she gaped at him.

Waiting for her answer, he wiggled the tickets in an enticing manner.

She continued to stare, incredulous.

"If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with?" he explained.

*****

Emily finally found Derek in an empty classroom, sitting against a table.

She leaned against the doorframe and said, "Congratulations."

He turned his head. "You too."

She nodded in acknowledgement and ventured inside. "You know, Casey told me. That you asked her to run so you could impress me. I have to admit, that was kind of sweet."

She stood in front of him, a smile on her face, but when Derek looked at her, he didn't smile.

"I only won because of Casey," he said.

"Wow – are you admitting you needed Casey? She's never going to believe this," she teased.

"No," Derek said, face serious, "I'm saying that if you put me up against Shlepper, Shlepper would have won the election."

"I don't really get" –

"I'm not popular," he said bluntly, straightening up.

"Derek" –

"And I'm okay with that. I don't need to join some dumb club or team I don't care about just so that I can be more popular. And I don't want to follow a ten step popularity programme just so that I can feel like I make the grade with you."

Emily tried to work out a response, heart sinking. "Derek – I'm sorry." It wasn't enough, and she tried again. "I never meant to make you feel like you weren't good enough. Believe me, I – I know how that feels, and…it sucks." She stopped. "I – really like you."

"I like you too," Derek said. "And – I don't want to fight with you anymore."

"I don't want to fight with you either" –

"Good. So you agree we should break up," Derek said.

"I – you want to break up with me?" her eyes searched his face.

"Not 'want'," he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Just – there are all these issues and underlying" –

"Wow. I really messed this up, huh?" she said, looking down.

"Yeah, well, I think I probably helped," he admitted. "You had stuff going on too, and I didn't exactly make it easy."

He trailed off.

"I really do like you, you know," she said again.

"Me too. That's probably a good place to end a relationship, right?" he said awkwardly.

"I guess," she said, and forced herself to smile.

*****

Casey was less gracious as they walked home. "After you go to all that trouble, and after you made me jeopardize my friendship with her – you decide you want to break up?"

Derek shrugged.

Casey looked at him in disgust. "Emily was really upset, you know." She made a face, "Meanwhile, here _you_ are, completely unaffected. I can't believe I helped you."

Derek tried a swagger as they walked up the front path. "What can I say? Beneath this deceptive keener surface beats the heart of a player."

Casey countered, "You mean, beneath your already unappealing surface, beats the heart of a _pig_."

She sighed, and reached for the door handle. "Well, I guess we'd better go in and break the uninspiring news."

Derek's eyes widened as he suddenly remembered something, and he slapped Casey's hand away from the door.

"Ow!" she glared. "What was that for?"

"I just – shouldn't you go and make sure Emily's okay?" he said, trying to work his body between her and the door.

She raised her eyebrows. "Derek McDonald had an ego, ei yi ei yi oh. Don't worry, I'm meeting up with Em later, and for what it's worth, I bet she's already coming to her senses."

She reached for the door handle again, elbowing Derek out of the way.

"But shouldn't you make sure, now?" he asked, attempting to haul her back, but it was too late. She opened the door and –

"Ta dah!" Nora said, flinging her arms wide. Then, "Oh! Casey – it's you."

Casey looked confused. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"Where's Emily?" Lizzie asked, peering around Casey.

Derek closed his eyes, but not before he saw the table just behind his mom, set for two and adorned with flowers and candles. He wondered, purely in the interest of science, whether it was possible to expire from concentrated embarrassment.

He didn't have to find out, because, with an indecipherable look at him, Casey said, "Wow – a victory dinner for me? Derek, you shouldn't have."

She sounded ridiculously stagey, playing up to the gallery, but it was an out, and Derek gratefully took it. "Yeah, well, it was their idea," he said, pointing at his mom and Lizzie.

Nora caught on and with the barest sympathetic look at Derek, said, "Of course. Yes – we just need to finish…setting the table."

Lizzie frowned at him, but gamely turned her attention to Casey. "You actually won?"

"Briefly."

*****

"So now?"

"Now I'm single and socially unacceptable. Again," Derek finished.

"I'm sorry," Paul said.

Derek shrugged a little. "It's okay. I think it was going to happen eventually."

Paul nodded, and they lapsed into silence for a few moments.

"But, on the bright side," Paul said, "Casey came through for you. That's something, right?"

"Yeah, I have to" – Derek abruptly shut his mouth and squinted suspiciously at Paul, who sighed, and said, "I promise, there are no hidden cameras in this room, and everything you say to me is completely confidential."

Grudgingly, Derek acknowledged, "In that case, I have to admit – yeah. Casey came through."

Paul smiled as Derek got to his feet. "See you tomorrow?" he said.

Derek stopped. "Tomorrow? Paul, I just broke up with my girlfriend, thereby eliminating a _major_ source of drama in my life. What could possibly happen in the next twenty-four hours that would make me need a session tomorrow?"

"I don't know," Paul said. "But I look forward to finding out. I'll keep my 2.15 open."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reworking of 'Adios, Derek'

" – so then Martin says, 'But that wasn't my dog!'" Paul said. "Or, wait – maybe he said, 'That _was_ my dog.'" Frowning, he tapped his fingers on his desk, and jumped at the sound of applause.

"Paul – I don't know how you do it," Derek said, still clapping. "You _always_ know the right thing to say to help me out."

"You think?" Paul asked, sounding flattered but not entirely convinced. "Because I thought I might have drifted there – towards the end?"

Derek shook his head. "Inspiring as ever," he assured him. "It's like you have some kind of…counselor's sixth sense or something." He leaned forward, and half-whispered, "You're like the Deanna Troi of SJST High."

"Really?" Paul asked. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I always thought I had good instincts, but" –

Abruptly he stopped, and regarded Derek narrowly. Derek looked back, innocent inquiry shining from his countenance.

"I'm the 'Deanna Troi' of SJST High?" he repeated.

"Too much?" Derek asked.

Paul held his thumb and his index finger a smidgeon apart. "Just a little," he said.

"That's because you're so modest," Derek told him.

"I also make a mean tuna casserole surprise," Paul said, mouth twitching. "Care to fill me in on what all this has to do with…anything?"

In the silence that followed, Paul folded his arms and waited. Finally, as he thoughtfully smoothed wrinkles out of his pants, Derek said, "Paul, you think I'm emotionally open, always respectful of your advice and willing to follow it without question, right?"

He waited for the laughter to die down.

"Oh," Paul said, as he caught sight of the look on Derek's face. "That _wasn't_ a joke."

"I take our sessions very seriously," Derek said.

"Right," Paul agreed. "That's why you used our time yesterday to study your biology book." He raised his eyebrows and Derek caved.

"Fine," he said. "Parent teacher night is coming up, and" –

"And let me guess – you want _your_ teacher reports to be better than Casey's?"

"No," Derek denied. "I want each teacher's report to show the effort I put into their subject – I want the night to be a reflection of my personal best."

Paul smiled. "That is really mature Derek, and I'm proud of you" –

"Of course…if my personal best happens to beat _Casey's_ personal best hands down," Derek continued, "well…that's just an added bonus."

"And we're back," Paul said to himself. "Derek – don't you think making everything into a competition between yourself and Casey is going to…backfire at some point?"

"No," Derek said. "Because I'm going to win. As a matter of fact, I don't even really see this as a competition. It's more of an…assured victory."

"I meant – emotionally," Paul explained. "Don't you think that this competitive atmosphere is going to take an emotional toll?"

Derek opened his mouth, only to shut it, and regard Paul narrowly. "That depends," he said. "How are you going to grade me if I disagree?"

"I –uh tend not to grade students I see as a guidance counselor," Paul said carefully.

"Seriously – _nothing_?"

"Being a guidance counselor is about helping people to find the right answers for themselves. Grading would be counterproductive."

Derek considered this. "So in effect, what you're saying is…I grade myself."

"In a way…I guess you could argue that" –

"Great," Derek said. "In that case, would you be willing to sign a written self-evaluation of my progress?"

*****

" – for the names of nonmetal anions, add the ending 'ide,' while polyatomic anions end with 'ite' or 'ate' – with the famous exception of hydroxide, of course." She paused and looked expectantly at Emily, who raised her head from the book in her lap and said, "Hmm? I'm sorry, Case – I wasn't paying attention."

At Casey's expression of consternation, she smiled and rolled her eyes and said, "Kidding, kidding. You're word perfect – impressive, and slightly scary."

"Good," Casey said, relaxing a little.

"Though, honestly, I don't see what the big deal is. Teachers love you. You always get good reports."

"Well this year, I don't want 'good' reports – I need _great reports_ , if I'm going to beat Derek."

"…of course," Emily said. "I should've guessed."

"Speaking of whom…" Casey straightened up, and squinted down the hallway at Derek and Tinker, standing by the lockers. "He's reading a book."

"Yeah, so? It's _Derek_."

"Can you see what it is?" Casey asked, half-rising from the steps to get a better view. "Here – I need the binoculars."

"Wow," Emily observed, passing them over, "Every time I think there are no more lines left to cross, you manage to step over a new one."

"Em – these are _your_ binoculars."

"Yeah – but I use them to spy on cute boys and get the inside scoop on hot hallway gossip. _You're_ using them to find out what book your stepbrother is studying. That constitutes a _serious_ misuse of resources."

"Spanish," Casey decided. "That's definitely our Spanish textbook in his hands." She narrowed her eyes. "But why would he be studying Spanish at nine am on a Thursday morning, when our Spanish class is scheduled for after lunch?"

"It's _Derek_ ," Emily reminded her.

"Something's not adding up," Casey said, ignoring Emily. "Does he know something I don't? Maybe he got an anonymous tip – maybe Señora Sanchez is going to give us a surprise pop quiz before Parent Teacher night!" She grabbed her book bag and began rummaging through it. "I need to start studying right away!"

Meanwhile, at the lockers, Derek asked, without raising his head from his book, "What book is she reading?"

"I don't know," Tinker said, "Right now, she's looking in her book bag – but a couple of minutes ago, she was studying our Chemistry textbook."

"Chemistry?" Derek whipped his head around and aimed a piercing glance in Casey's direction. "Why Chemistry?"

"Maybe she knows the Columbia Blue cover matches her eyes exactly?" Tinker offered.

*****

"You know – when you said 'lunch date', this…wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Max said.

Casey beamed. "Isn't it great? I've put together something that you like – games, and something that I like – learning, to create the perfect lunch date. Isn't it quirky and fun?"

"You'd think," Max said, staring at the cue cards covering every inch of the cafeteria table.

"Why don't I explain the rules?" Casey asked, choosing to disregard his less than enthused tone. "Okay – you choose any cue card, then turn it over. On the back, there's a question in Spanish. If I answer it correctly, I win the cue card. Then, once I have ten cue cards, we proceed to a lightning round – now, where did I put that timer?" She began searching her bag.

"Or we could just eat lunch and talk," Max said.

Casey looked up. "We could," she agreed, "But…where's the fun in that?"

"Call me crazy, but I think it could be fun to talk to my girlfriend without having to use a timer."

"You know something?" Casey stopped looking in her bag. "You're right."

"Great," Max said. He pulled out a chair and sat down.

"A natural lunchtime conversation in Spanish. That's probably a more organic way to engage with the subject anyway. ¿Cómo estás, Max?"

Max stared. "Um – no offence, Casey, but…I have a hard enough time figuring out what I want to say to you in _English_."

Casey blinked at him. " _¿Qué?_ "

"Okay…hey, here's an idea. Why don't you read your Spanish book, while I just…sit here quietly?"

Casey bit her lip. "But – that's not fun for you." Still, her eyes strayed towards her book bag.

"Seriously. I don't mind," Max said. Almost before he had finished the sentence her hand shot out, grabbing her Spanish textbook.

"Gracias!" she said. As she flicked through the pages with one hand, she pushed her lunchbox towards him with the other. "¡Comer con gusto!"

*****

As soon as Casey opened the door, she was greeted by Nora, who blocked her path and said, brightly, "Hey, Casey. How was your day?"

"Okay," Casey said. "But kind of tiring – I think I'm going to go to my room and relax for a while."

She tried to duck around Nora, who held out a hand. "Sorry Casey, you know the rules – after school, it's mandatory goof off time for you and Derek. For at least two hours." Apologetically, she said, "I'm going to need you to hand over the book bag."

"I can goof off in my room!" Casey offered, hands fisted tightly around the strap of her book bag.

"The rule states that all goof off time must take place within view of others, in order to prevent instances of covert studying," Derek droned dispassionately from the couch.

Casey pointed at him. " _Derek's_ reading!"

He held up a magazine. On the cover was a woman leaning on a guitar, and the words, 'free!', 'new album covers!' and 'top ten!' were prominently featured. "Mindless entertainment – no literary value whatever," he said, with a trace of smugness. "I've counted seven typos so far."

Casey slumped and gave in, handing over her book bag to Nora with a sigh. "Fine," she said, crossing over and dropping onto the opposite end of the couch from Derek. "But I think it should be noted that I'm only doing this under duress!" she called, as Nora made her way back to the kitchen.

She picked up the remote and began flicking quickly through television channels.

"On edge?" Derek asked, still looking down at his magazine.

"Of course not," she said, staring fixedly at the television. "Why would I be on edge?"

"Parent Teacher night is tomorrow."

"Why would that put me on edge? I _always_ get good reports."

"Just _'good'?_ " Derek asked, sympathetically.

Casey's lips thinned and she hit the remote button with extra force. It landed on a documentary about the mysteries of Ancient Egypt. Her eyes flicked quickly to Derek – who still appeared transfixed by his magazine. Stealthily, she lowered the volume, and turned on closed captioning.

"Mom!"

The sudden shout made her jump.

"Casey's watching something educational!"

Hastily, she fumbled with the remote and turned off the television.

"Did someone forget mandatory goof off rule number one?" he asked.

Casey's eyes narrowed as she suddenly realised that Derek, despite his seemingly intense interest in the magazine he was holding up, had yet to turn a page. She lunged for the magazine, ripping it out of his hands, and causing a sheaf of loose-leaf paper to cascade to the floor.

"Looks like I'm not the only one," she said, as they both scrambled, getting down on their knees to grab the sheets. "What's this?" she asked, with false surprise, as she held up a page, leaning back out to keep it out of Derek's reach. " _Chemistry_ notes?" She tutted, before yelling, "Nora! Derek's studying!"

When Nora appeared, she took in the sheets carpeting the floor, and the two teenagers, both now frantically reading the pages in their hands. She folded her arms. "Okay," she said. "Mandatory goof off time has just been extended. _All night_."

Both parties immediately protested.

"Nora!"

"Mom!"

Nora held up a warning hand. "And if there's so much as one rule breach – just _one_ " – she paused dramatically, "George and I will be no shows at Parent Teacher night."

"You wouldn't," Derek said – but he didn't take his eyes off her as he got to his feet and sat on the couch.

"Nora – don't you think you're going a little too far?" Casey asked, carefully.

"We'll be deadbeats," Nora continued. "Slackers. Absentees." She pasted a puzzled expression on her face, "Parent Teacher night? Sorry – I guess our dog ate the notification."

She straightened up, immune to the looks of silent horror. "Now who wants to watch some reality TV?"

*****

"I can't believe they managed it," George said. He straightened his tie and lowered his voice. "Actually – I was kind of hoping they wouldn't. This knot is killing me."

Nora reached out and loosened his tie. "Only a couple more to go."

"Don't get me wrong – Casey's always been a good student, but this – this is…something else. Her English teacher practically gave me a _tongue bath_."

Nora raised her eyebrows.

"It's all 'Casey's so driven, Casey's so focused.' They all want to know what my secret is – and I don't know how to tell them… _I_ don't even know what my secret is."

"Maybe it's that air of mystery that intrigues Casey's teachers," Nora teased. She became a bit more serious as she said, "Derek's always been like this. Well – there was a rough spell in Grade One, but since then…" she shrugged.

"It's weird, but it kind of makes _me_ feel like the kid," George said. "I mean, when I was in highschool" –

"Don't tell me you were a _slacker_ ," Nora said, voice loaded with fake disapproval.

"And I bet you were an A student."

"I believed it was important to work hard and make good grades," Nora said, as primly as she could manage – given the smile that threatened to break through at any moment.

"Mom!" Derek called from down the hallway, "Señora Sanchez appreciates _punctuality_."

At the same time, Casey appeared and seized George's arm. "Dad, quick! Mr Carpenter's room just opened up!"

Nora made a face. "Duty calls."

"Meet me by the bleachers later?" George said, as Casey pulled him away.

*****

"Derek," the dark-haired woman sitting behind the desk said. She shook her head, and raised her hands as if spoken language was futile. "What can I say about Derek?"

"I don't know – but I look forward to hearing it," Derek said, leaning forward in his chair.

"It is hard to put into words," she said, hands still working.

"Try," Derek advised.

"He is – well, he is a very good worker" –

Nora nodded.

"And so consistent! He participates in class, he always gives of his best – his written assignments are handed in on time…" she trailed off with a fond smile at Derek. "You must be so proud to have a son whose love of learning, of _Spanish_ , shows so clearly."

"You know, I used to have a real problem with Spanish," Derek offered.

Señora Sanchez appeared shocked. "You did?"

"You did?" Nora echoed.

"I was really struggling until your class. It was a turning point for me," Derek said. "And it was because of you. Because of your teaching, for the first time, I _wanted_ to understand the language. As a matter of fact…" he sounded bashful, "I even used you as a study aid."

Señora Sanchez looked confused. "You…?"

Derek held up a sockpuppet with a mass of dark hair, red lipstick and hoop earrings. A scrap of silk was jauntily tied around its neck. Nora glanced between it and the woman behind the desk, who appeared deeply moved.

"And this – this helped you?"

"It was the inspiration I needed to keep going," Derek said soberly.

*****

"Was that really necessary?" Nora asked, just as they stepped outside the classroom.

"What?"

"You've _never_ had trouble with Spanish – and I don't know if I approve of you lying about" –

"Don't think of it as lying – think of it as…bringing joy to a woman whose hard work too often goes unappreciated." Derek waved back at the woman behind the desk, using the hand that still had the Señora Sanchez sockpuppet on it. The real Señora Sanchez placed a hand over her heart.

"You lied about having trouble with Spanish to 'bring joy' to Señora Sanchez?" Nora sounded skeptical.

"Mom – I had to. You heard what she said – students like me are the reason she gets out of bed in the mornings."

Nora sighed.

*****

Meanwhile, further down the corridor, Casey had produced a small notebook and pen and was writing, "'Extremely diligent'…" She stopped, and turned to George. "Or did he say I was 'extremely _dedicated_ '?"

"Yeah," George said vaguely. "One of those."

Casey opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a voice broke in, "Sounds promising."

She whirled around, "Mom?"

Her mother smiled and held out her arms. A little dazedly, Casey stepped forward and hugged her. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Parent Teacher night," she said with a shrug.

"Well, yeah, but – you didn't call."

"Do I need to schedule time with my daughter now?" Abby teased.

"What? No, of course not. It's just – we…I wasn't expecting you."

"So – what'd I miss?" Abby asked, directing the question at George.

*****

Derek and Casey pushed through the front door, still comparing notes. More quietly, Nora, George and Abby followed. Abby had a frown on her face.

"Well, he said that _I_ was one of his top students," Casey said in triumph, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah. _One_ of," Derek pointed out. "Who do you think takes the top spot?" He peered into Casey's notebook. "Is that it? Huh. I guess that would make Parent Teacher night a conclusive McDonald victory."

He smirked, but Casey rallied quickly. "Yeah, well – I achieved _my_ grades while _also_ taking part in a number of valuable extracurricular activities…unlike _you_. Which _some_ might say is even more impressive."

"Yeah – _some_ might. But if you were paying attention in Math, you'd know that 'some' doesn't exactly describe the majority, so…either way, I still win."

Casey stepped into his space. "Yeah…unless you consider that I almost beat you. So – even when I'm multi-tasking, I'm more than a match for your narrow, one track mind."

Derek nodded, seeming to consider this. "I guess you have a point…or you would have, if I wasn't involved in any extra-curriculars. But…if that were the case, then I wouldn't be able to do _this_." He pulled out a folded up sheet of paper from his pocket, and, with great ceremony, opened it out.

"Remember that poem you submitted to the school paper?" he asked. "As editor-in-chief, I'm sorry to have to inform you but…we're going to pass this time."

" _Derek_ ," Nora warned, stepping forward. "Do you really think that _now_ is a good time for this?" Her eyes flicked between her son and Casey – neither of whom reacted to her presence.

"Your subject was trite, your language was clichéd, and line seven didn't scan," Derek said, leaning in close. His voice got lower and lower as he spoke, but this didn't appear to soften the blows – in fact it seemed to amplify them, creating as it did an aura of intimacy. They both seemed to have forgotten that there were other people in the room.

Casey gritted her teeth, and held firm. In the same soft tone, she said, "You're just doing this because I'm right – you _are_ threatened by me."

Derek held her gaze and snorted. "Oh please. If I were 'threatened', do you think I'd be sharing valuable information with you…like the rumour that Ms Hernandez is planning a Bio pop quiz tomorrow?"

They stared at each other for a moment before both simultaneously racing up the stairs, pushing and jostling to be first.

"Business as usual," George joked to Abby. "But it looks like Casey might be in the running for a scholarship. Which is good, right?"

Abby smiled, looking a little strained. "Is it?"

"It isn't?"

"No – I don't mean that. Of course it's good. I just – I'm worried."

George frowned.

"You remember when we divorced, and Casey got all…Stepford child on us?"

"You think that's happening here?"

"I'm just a little concerned," Abby said.

"She has been kind of intense lately," George said slowly. "I thought it was just Parent Teacher night, but I guess…it _has_ been ongoing."

"And Derek does tend to turn everything into a competition," Nora admitted. "Which probably doesn't help."

"While Casey's incapable of not meeting a challenge," Abby said, with a rueful smile. "I just…wonder whether that's such a good thing for her right now. I mean – from what I saw tonight, she seems really stressed. Frankly, it worries me. I think she might have taken on too much responsibility."

George took a deep breath. "Agreed. But – what do we do. I mean – Casey's…Casey, and Derek is" –

" _Derek_ ," Nora finished.

"– and this is the way they've always interacted. How do we change that?"

Abby hesitated, but said, "I might have a suggestion."

*****

"So your mom just turned up?"

"Yeah."

"And she didn't…tell you or your dad or anything?" Emily sounded a little nonplussed, and Casey hastened to explain.

"No – but it's not like that was a _problem_. I get along really well with my mom – we _all_ get along really well."

"Oh, I didn't mean" –

"I mean – sure she hasn't been around so much lately, but that's only because she was so busy with her study. A PhD is a lot of work and commitment."

"Yeah – it's probably" –

"But I totally understood that, and she had my full support throughout. It wasn't like…" she trailed off, only to abruptly change her tone. "If you want your divorces clichéd and movie-of-the-week-flavoured – then Derek's your guy. But us _Venturis_ are well-adjusted and mature. As a matter of fact, we're all having dinner with my mom tonight, to celebrate that she's finally finished her PhD."

"…sounds nice," Emily said.

"It is," Casey told her.

*****

And it was. Dinner was perfect; there was a moment when Casey looked around the table – at her mom and dad and stepmom, all eating together and making polite conversation – and she felt a deep sense of pride at how refreshingly _uncliched_ it was.

"It's definitely a relief to be done," her mom said. "I was so stressed towards the end – and I really felt like I was neglecting you guys." She smiled at Casey, Edwin and Marti.

"What? No!" Casey denied immediately. "Mom – you were finishing a _doctorate_. We know how big a deal that was for you – and we're all really proud of you. Aren't we?" She nudged Edwin meaningfully with her foot, and he jumped to attention.

"Sure we are! You really knocked that Marine Bio degree out of the pond!" Edwin said, pumping his forkful of food in the air. "Way to go, mom!"

"Thanks, honey."

"Marti?" Casey prompted.

"All my dolls have the chicken spots," Marti said, leaning forward on her elbows. "What would you recommend?"

*****

As soon as the last spoonful of dessert had been swallowed, there was a simultaneous scraping of chairs, as Derek and Casey rose from their places.

"– really great, but I've got an essay to research, so…" Derek said.

Casey gestured upwards. "Yeah – I'll just be" –

"We're hoping you'll 'just be' on the couch," Abby said. "There's something we'd like to discuss with you."

"But that's not fair," Casey said. "What happened to a level playing field? If Derek gets a jump start on his essay, then I should get to skip mandatory goof off time tomorrow."

George and Abby exchanged a look.

"No way!" Derek said. "Not happening."

"Why? Scared you won't be able to beat me when things aren't biased in your favour?"

"Oh please – you only _wish_ " –

Nora laid a hand on Derek's arm. "Why don't you help me clean up in here, Derek," she said, "while Casey and George and Abby talk outside."

*****

Casey sat on the couch, looking up at her parents. "So – what did you guys want to discuss?" she asked.

Abby looked at George, who half-nodded. "Well – we've been talking, and – we both think that you've been pushing yourself really hard lately."

Casey blinked at them. "Uh-huh. And?"

"And, we're a little concerned," Abby explained. She cleared her throat and said, "Before I finished my PhD, I was offered a fellowship, to do research in Spain. For six months."

Inside the kitchen, Derek rinsed another glass, and placed it on the sideboard. Nora continued slowly drying the dish in her hand, while frowning in the direction of the living room.

"I think that one might be done, mom," Derek said, after watching her in silence for a few moments.

"Hmm?" Nora said. "Oh, thanks." Without looking, she reached back with the dish, dropping it into the sink again.

"Okay – what's going on?"

"What? Nothing's going on," Nora said.

"Then why are you spacing" – he stopped, eyes darting suspiciously in the direction of the living room. "This has something to do with Casey, doesn't it?"

"Nooo," Nora denied. "They're just talking."

"About what?" he demanded. A terrible thought struck him. "Are they giving her extra tuition? Is that what this is about?" He dropped the washing up brush in the sink, and hurried to the living room, barely catching Nora's hissed, "Derek!"

He got there in time to hear Casey say, in a strained voice, "Spain? Wow, that's – that's great mom! I mean, I'm happy for you, and I completely support your decision."

"Actually, I hadn't really considered it. Until now." She smiled at Casey. "I want you to come with me."

"You want me to go to _Spain_?"

"You're taking her to _Spain_?"

Nora placed a warning hand on Derek's elbow, but he didn't move. Beyond a glance in his direction, Abby didn't seem to register Derek's sudden, vocal presence. "You've been pushing yourself so hard – a change of scene would be good for you. Plus, we'd get to spend more time together. So…what do you say?"

"I – say…um – this is big."

"I know. It is a big decision. But what's your first reaction?"

Casey's words burst forth suddenly. "I think…it sounds great, mom. But – I can't! I have too many responsibilities – school! I can't just _ditch school_ for six months…And, and home – dad and Nora need my help with the kids…plus I have all these commitments – cheerleading, fundraising, the school musical – so…I _can't_ go." Her shoulders seemed to relax, as if the question had been definitively settled.

"But that's exactly our point," Abby said gently. "You have too many responsibilities."

"We think it might be good for you to get away from all that," George said. "So just – don't think about school, or us, or anything else. Just focus on what _you_ want to do." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Do you want to go to Spain with your mother?"

The muscles in Derek's arm tightened under Nora's hand, and his eyes flicked from the back of Casey's head to Abby, leaning forward in anticipation of Casey's answer.

Slowly, as if her vocal cords were rusty, Casey said, "Of course I want to go with you, mom. Why wouldn't I?"

Abby reached out and took one of Casey's hands in hers, while George put his arm around her. After a moment, Casey pulled back, and twisted around on the couch to face Nora and Derek.

"So – looks like I'm…going to Spain," she said, still sounding a little thrown by the situation.

Nora smiled supportively. "It sounds like a wonderful opportunity, Casey. I'm sure you'll love it."

She discreetly nudged Derek, who started at the contact, then said, "Great. Yeah. Well. I still have an essay to write." He took a step towards the stairs. "So I'm going to – get on that."

*****

"What is it?" Casey asked, poking the grayish lumpy mound on her plate with the back of her fork.

"It's a Spanish omelet!" Nora said.

"Since the rest of us aren't going to Spain, can we have cereal for breakfast?" Edwin asked. Derek seemed to agree with this, wordlessly grabbing a bowl and filling it with Cheerios.

"Thanks, Nora," Casey said, making no move to actually eat the omelet. "That's…really thoughtful. But…" she hesitated, "I don't know if we should talk about Spain so much. I mean – it's a great opportunity, but since I'm the only one who gets to go, I think I need to be sensitive to Edwin and Marti's feelings. So – let's not talk about Spain, agreed?"

"Hey, you can talk about Spain all you want…as long as I get your room while you're gone," Edwin said.

"You…want my room?"

"Yeah, Edwin – isn't it kind of…girly for you?" Lizzie asked.

Edwin spread his arms wide. "Okay, decoration-wise it's a fixer-upper, but it's _also_ prime real estate. It's got everything – location, a view, a ceiling that doesn't slant…"

Catching sight of Casey's expression, he said hurriedly, "And I think it would really help me cope with the absence of my big sis."

"I'm touched," Casey muttered into her Spanish omelette.

"I want milk!" Marti yelled suddenly.

Casey recoiled. "Marti – inside voice, remember?"

"If you're going to Spain, you don't get to boss me around," Marti informed her, at a markedly higher decibel level. "And I'm gonna use my outside voice _all. the._ TIME!"

"It's going to be a fun few months," George said dryly, rubbing his ear.

Casey pushed her omelet around the plate, while Derek relentlessly crunched his way through spoonful after spoonful of cereal.

*****

" _Spain_? I still can't believe it!"

"I know – it _is_ kind of sudden," Casey agreed.

"Wow," Emily shook her head.

"I know. Huge wow. Major wow. _Life-changing_ wow," Casey said.

"I'm so happy for you!"

"You're… _happy_ for me?"

"Of course I am! You get to spend more time with your mom, something you're always saying you want" –

"Yeah – that will be nice," Casey said. "Though, she'll probably be working a lot of the time…"

"Plus you get to go to _Spain_ to do it," Emily continued. "So, yeah, I'm happy for you! What kind of friend would I be if I wasn't?"

"I guess," Casey said. She looked down at the books she was holding in her hands. "It's just, Spain is so far away, and I thought" –

"Well, yeah," Emily said, "But it's not forever. It's six months and that's only" –

"Half a year," Casey finished. "Exactly half a year."

"And we'll talk. All the time. We can phone, and email, and IM – and hey! Maybe I can even come over and visit!"

"Yeah!" Casey said. "That'll be…I'm glad you're so cool about it."

*****

" _Spain_?"

"Spain," Derek confirmed, pulling books out of his locker. He turned to face Tinker, who was standing very still, hands clenched at his sides, a strange expression on his face. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting to wake up," he said.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Well, don't hold your breath, because while _my_ Casey nightmare is over, yours is just beginning."

"She's really going to Spain?" Tinker said slowly.

Derek flicked a glance at him. "Yeah," he said.

"I don't know how this is going to work," Tinker said.

"Then let me break it down for you. Casey leaves. Seems pretty simple to me."

"No – that's not what I meant. I know I've always loved Casey from afar" –

"And now you're going to love her from afarther," Derek cut in. "Still not seeing the problem."

"The problem is, she'll be in _Spain_ ," Tinker said.

Derek didn't reply as he closed his locker.

*****

"Spain?"

"Yeah. Spain," Casey nodded. "I know – it's completely out of nowhere, right?"

Max looked at her. "I'm kind of used to that by now."

Casey drummed her fingers on the cafeteria table. "So…what are your thoughts? Because this is a huge decision, and – and I really value your opinion."

Max considered for a moment. "It's cool."

"It's…cool?" Casey repeated.

"Yeah. Spain's a cool country," he said. "Well – a hot country, but" –

"No – it's _another_ country. That I will be in for six months. Don't you have any feelings about that?"

"Sure," Max told her, "But I'm trying to look on the bright side."

"There's a…bright side to your long-term girlfriend moving to another country for six months?"

"Yeah. The way I see it, you being gone will give me time to really focus on my game."

"Great," Casey said, smile tight on her face. "That's just…great."

*****

"Spain?"

"I'm really not getting this reaction," Derek said. "It's not like Casey's travelling to 1940's Germany."

"No," Paul agreed, "But – it's not like she's moving down the street either."

Derek sighed. "I _get_ that it's a big deal – but it's like all anyone wants to talk about. Casey's going to Spain? When? For how long? Has she packed her swimsuit?" He leaned back in his chair, "And I, for one, am ready for a subject change."

Paul nodded. "Okay. How about – instead of talking about Casey moving to Spain, we discuss _your feelings_ about Casey moving to Spain?"

Derek made a face. "Yeah – one, that's not much of a subject change, and two – I don't _have_ any feelings about Casey moving to Spain."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Huh. Are you sure? Because good or bad, she's been a big part of your life so far. It seems a little strange that you wouldn't have _any_ feelings about her moving."

Derek looked down at his hands for a moment before saying, "Okay, fine. I do have…feelings…about Casey leaving. But…they're not exactly the Hallmark Approved kind of feelings."

"Makes sense," Paul smiled at him. "Life's not a greeting card. But I think it's important to talk about those feelings anyway."

Derek blew out a breath. "It's like – ever since I came to London, I kept thinking how much easier my life would be if Casey wasn't in it. And in a couple of days…she won't be. It's exactly what I wanted, and it feels" –

He met Paul's eye and finished hurriedly, "It feels exactly like I expected it to."

"And how is that?" Paul asked.

"It feels like…it feels like…" he frowned. "Did you change the stuff on your desk?"

Thrown, Paul blinked down at his desk. "I don't think s" –

"Because it looks different. Something's different." He gestured in front of him. "Don't you think something's missing?"

"Most definitely," Paul agreed, watching Derek scowl down at his desk.

*****

That evening, although Abby tried to orient the dinner-talk Spainwards, Casey's conversation seemed to suffer from a form of continental drift that ensured all topics washed up on the doorstep of 271.

This might have had something to do with the fact that Casey spent most of her time scribbling into a notebook beside her plate.

"It's my Hypothetical Hazard Book," she said, when called on it. She barely looked up. "It's a kind of primer for when I'm…not here. It's full of helpful advice on what to do in case of hypothetical emergencies."

"Is that…really necessary?" Abby asked.

"Of course!" Casey said. "It's important to be prepared for all eventualities. I mean," she addressed the table, "hypothetically speaking, what would you do if there was a fire?"

"Easy," Edwin said. "In case of hypothetical fire, break hypothetical glass." He leaned over and peered into Casey's notebook. "What to do in case Marti suddenly develops a rare food allergy?" he read.

Marti looked at Casey for a long moment before deliberately throwing a handful of peas across the table.

"Problem solved," Lizzie noted, brushing peas off her lap.

"Marti!" Casey said, tone full of rebuke.

"What? I was getting an ALLERGY," Marti said.

Over the sudden commotion of parental reprimanding of Marti (who retaliated by using her outdoor voice), Edwin kept reading. Across the table, Derek's eyes snapped onto Casey, as more and more Hypothetical Hazards were revealed.

"What to do in case we run out of space in the freezer? What to do if a bird flies into an upstairs window and injures itself?" Edwin stopped. "Wow, that's kind of" –

"Reaching," Derek finished. "Even for you, Princess Paranoid."

Casey stared down at her plate as she repeated, "It's important to be prepared for every eventuality."

"Yeah," Derek said, refusing to look away from her. "Every single one."

"Well, _we_ want you to stop worrying," Abby said. "Don't we George?"

George agreed. "And if it helps – I know exactly what to do if a bird flies in the window." He paused to heighten the suspense. "Cancel our take-out order."

After a beat, Lizzie asked, "Does your book have a 'what to do when someone makes a joke that really isn't funny?' page?"

"Instead why don't you try thinking about how fun this is going to be," Abby continued. She smiled. "I don't usually get to spend so much time with you, and I'm really looking forward to it."

Derek's eyes flicked between her and Casey, taking everything in.

"Yeah," Casey said. "You're right." She looked down at the table for a moment, before raising her head, and smiling with all the determination of a Miss Universe candidate. "I can't wait."

*****

"Unless you hurry up, we're going to be late for class," Tinker said. "Not that it matters," he added as an afterthought.

"I don't get it," Derek said, staring into his locker. "My study guide was in here yesterday – I know it was."

"Here today, gone tomorrow," Tinker agreed sadly.

"Did _you_ see – ah!" Derek turned, and started. He stared at Tinker for a few moments. "New look," he observed.

Tinker shrugged.

"You know, when people say 'Less is more' – they aren't usually talking about personal hygiene," Derek advised.

"What does it matter? Casey's leaving."

"She's not taking all the hot water with her." Derek sighed, and ran a hand through his hair and said, "So she's leaving. People leave. All the time. And you just have to deal with it and _seriously_ , I remember putting it in my locker – it can't just have disappeared…"

"I guess I'm not like you," Tinker said, staring down the corridor as beside him, Derek began tossing books out of his locker. "I just don't handle this kind of stuff very well."

*****

"Casey – I just heard about Spain," Amy said, lowering her voice on the last word, as if Spain were an embarrassing personal illness, "And I just wanted to say, on behalf of the whole cheerleading squad…we're going to keep your memory alive."

"Thanks," Casey said. "But I'm just leaving the country, not…dying."

"I know," Amy said, "For six months."

"Yeah," Casey said, her smile wavering. "I know it's a long time, and I'm kind of leaving the squad in the lurch but" –

"I want you to know that I fully support you."

Casey almost sighed. "Of course you do."

"Listen," Amy placed a hand on Casey's shoulder, "I know long-distance is going to be hard on you and Max, but I'm there for you guys. As your second in command, I'm honoured to take your place on the squad, and if Max needs to talk to someone, well – I'd be happy to fill in for you until you get back."

"Um, thanks," Casey said, sounding a little unsure.

Amy squeezed her shoulder and offered her a supportive smile before walking away.

"Well, that was…sweet," Casey said in that same uncertain tone as she watched her leave.

Emily snorted. "Are you kidding?"

"What? She's just trying to be a good friend." It seemed as if Casey was trying to convince herself as much as Emily.

"Yeah – the same girl who's been after your spot on the squad _and_ your boyfriend since day one, is going to 'take your place' and let Max cry on her shoulder because she wants to 'be a good friend'."

"Okay, the whole 'wanting my life' thing is a minus in the 'being a good friend' column, but…it's not like I have anything to worry about, right? I mean – Max and I are in a solid, long-term relationship and he would never" – she stopped when she noticed Emily rolling her eyes. "What?"

"Case – Max is a _guy_. Which means he has an attention span of…" she calculated, "…maybe seven seconds. They're like upright goldfish. With guys it's a case of 'out of sight, out of mind.'"

The look on Casey's face obviously tipped her off to her mistake, because she continued, hurriedly, "Um, but _you_ don't need to worry about that! Remember, _I'm_ here – and there's no way I'm going to let Max forget about you."

"Good. Just what I always wanted – a boyfriend who needs to be _reminded_ of my existence."

"Look on the bright side," Emily told her.

"There's _another_ bright side?" Casey said. She smiled a sickly smile. "…that's…great."

"While I'm keeping Max away from Amy, you're on the beach, checking out cute Spanish boys."

"Yeah," Casey agreed. "Cute Spanish boys I can't date, because I already have a boyfriend."

"I bet a lot of them wear speedos?" Emily offered.

*****

"– I remember putting it in there yesterday, and now it's gone!" Derek spread his arms in bewilderment.

"Uh huh." Paul nodded, and checked his watch. "Well…I think we've covered the missing study guide issue pretty thoroughly. Anything _else_ you might want to discuss?"

Derek stared at him for a moment. He opened his mouth, and Paul leaned forward in anticipation.

"I just don't understand how it could be there one minute, and gone the next!"

Paul sat back. He tapped his fingers on the desk. "You know, Derek…it's good to talk about things. And it's even better to talk about the _important_ things, the ones that really matter to you."

Derek looked blank.

"I think it's interesting that you're focusing so much on this study guide thing. It's almost like you're trying not to focus on a…bigger issue?" Paul hinted.

"Like what?" Derek asked.

Paul just looked at him, and Derek said, sounding incredulous, "The Casey-leaving thing?"

Paul nodded.

"So, let me get this straight – you think I'm…" he circled his hands in the air.

"Repressing your feelings about Casey leaving so that you don't have to deal with the real issue?" Paul finished, too quickly. "…maybe?" he amended.

"You think I'm repressing feelings about Casey? That's just…" Derek shook his head as he considered the idea. "Besides, if there's anyone you need to talk to about repressed feelings, it's _Casey_. I mean, she doesn't even _want_ to go to Spain."

"Really? She told you that?" Paul asked.

"No," Derek said, as if the very idea was ridiculous.

"Then how do you know she doesn't want to go?"

"It's obvious."

"Huh." Paul took this in. "And you…don't think you should maybe talk to her about this?"

"No," Derek said, very firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because…"

Paul raised his eyebrows.

"Be-cause…Casey's a crier, and I don't want to have to deal with her getting emotional in my general area," Derek pulled out the explanation almost triumphantly.

Paul held up his index fingers. "And, let me guess, you don't want to get emotional in front of Casey, either."

"I just – what's the big deal with this feely-sharey business anyway?" Derek said. "What's it supposed to accomplish? She doesn't _want_ to go to Spain – so why should she need me to bad-cop her into not doing something she already doesn't want to do?"

He sat back and folded his arms, clearly waiting for Paul to present the counter argument.

"Maybe it's important because you just can't go on repressing your feelings and hoping they'll go away. Good or bad, sometimes you just need to get your feelings out in the open." Gently, Paul said, "Feelings that you don't acknowledge have a way of coming back to bite you later."

Derek seemed to think about this for a moment before saying, in a tone that probably passed for casual, "Yeah, well, my feelings are really well-trained, so I'll take my chances."

*****

Tinker caught up with them as they were leaving the cafeteria.

"Whoa," Casey said, taking one step backwards because personal space seemed to demand it, and then taking another because hygiene was hysterically insisting on it. "Wow, Tinker – that's a…new look. Or a really, really old look," she added, as if she couldn't help it.

"Oh," Tinker said. It appeared to have just dawned on him that his face was auditioning for the lead role in _Grease_. "Yeah. That stuff, um, it hasn't seemed to matter so much…lately."

"I can tell," she said. The look on her face was carefully polite, but her hands wrapped defensively across her torso. "But, you know, grunge is supposed to be making a comeback, so…there's that."

There was a silence. "Well…" Casey said, obviously expecting him to step aside.

Instead he blurted, "I wanted to give this to you…on – on behalf of the whole school."

Hesitantly, Casey took the parcel. "What is it?" she asked.

"A small token of our friendship, and – love," he said, as she unwrapped the parcel to reveal a small wooden jewellery box, inlaid with a mother of pearl design. "It belonged to our Aunt Nancy," he added.

"Tinker…" she said, running a finger over the lid.

"You're the most beautiful," he quickly corrected himself, "– _vital_ part of the student body of SJST High, and – and we want you to know that…things won't be the same here without you."

Casey looked up from her contemplation of the jewellery box. "Tinker…" she trailed off, before suddenly launching forward and hugging him. " _Thank you_ ," she said, sincerely.

Tinker appeared to have stopped breathing. Casey might have stopped breathing too – but probably for a more prosaic, lack of shower freshness reason.

She pulled back and both she and Emily pretended not to hear the small, desolate sound he made.

"It's beautiful, Tinker," she said. "I love it."

"You – love…" Abruptly, Tinker closed his eyes and scrunched his face into an expression of concentration that looked almost painful.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked warily.

"Waiting to wake up," he said.

The girls stared at him for a moment before moving past him. As they walked down the corridor, Emily said, "Wow. _That_ was the most inspiring," her forehead wrinkled, "– and unsanitary thing I've ever seen. You just totally made his life, Case."

Casey looked down at the jewellery box in her hands. "Yeah, well, he did give me this."

"Yeah – but…body to body contact? That's over and above the call of duty."

Very seriously, Casey said, "Tinker's a really sweet guy – and it was nice of him to say all those things. Maybe…I'm the one who should feel grateful."

Emily frowned. "You should feel _grateful_ that Tinker said he was going to miss you? Why? It's not like he's the only one."

Casey shrugged.

As if she was just figuring something out, Emily said, "Case – you do know _I'm_ going to miss you as well, right?" She stepped in front of Casey and put her hands on her shoulders. "Right?" she asked, eyes intent.

Casey looked down. "You just…seem so – okay with me leaving. And you keep talking about how happy you are."

"Well yeah – I'm happy for _you_. But that doesn't mean it doesn't also suck. The truth is…if I don't keep reminding myself about how happy I am for you – I get all bummed out for _me_."

"You do?"

"Of course I do. Casey, you're my best friend, and you're going to be gone for _six months_. Trust me, there's just no way to make that _not_ suck for me. You get that, right?"

Casey smiled. "I do now."

The two girls considered each other. "You know, this is normally where we'd hug," Emily said, "But…after Tinker and his mouldy new look…"

"Yeah," Casey agreed, "I need a wet wipe first."

*****

"– distinctive feature of his poetry is…? Anyone?" The teacher looked around the room. No-one seemed to want to catch her eye. She gave in to the inevitable with a smile. "Mr McDonald?"

Derek looked up. "Huh?"

"I was just asking whether anyone could describe a distinctive feature of ee cummings’ poetry."

She looked at Derek expectantly. He looked back at her. "I don't know," he said slowly.

There was a classwide squeaking of chairs and dropping of pens as everyone turned to stare at him. The teacher blinked. "You don't? Are – you sure?"

"No," he said, almost as if he was talking to himself. "I know the answer – I _know_ I know it. I just…can't remember it."

"Oh," the teacher said. "Well that's…that's perfectly…do you need to go to the nurse's office?"

Absently, Derek shook his head. A look of surprise spread across his face. "I think…my feelings just bit me," he said.

"I really think you should see the nurse," the teacher decided.

*****

Since Marti had left her door open, the homemade tent was clearly visible from the top of the stairs. Casey hesitated a moment, but stepped into Marti's room anyway. She knocked softly on the door to announce her presence.

"Hey, Marti," she said. "It's me. I know you probably don't want me here…but I really need to talk to you."

"It's okay," came a small voice from inside the tent. "You can come in if you want."

"Thanks." Casey lifted up the blanket that comprised the tent-entrance. "Wow," she said, as she sat down and tucked her legs under her. "It's like your own little world in here. Very creative – I like it." She smiled.

Marti's face remained serious. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to talk about you and me. And Spain."

Marti didn't say anything, she just kept watching Casey with solemn eyes.

"I've been thinking about all the things you've been doing lately – using your outside voice, and throwing food, and…I know it's going to be great when I'm in Spain, and I can't boss you around, but…maybe you've been acting like that because you're going to miss me a little?"

"No," Marti said, shaking her head.

"Oh," Casey said, clearly thrown. "Well, in that case" –

"I'm going to miss you a _lot_ ," Marti clarified, throwing her arms around Casey, who smiled and hugged back.

"I'm going to miss you too," she said.

Marti pulled back. "If I do my brain gym exercises and I eat all my vegetables, and I _promise_ not to take your make-up without asking – will you stay?"

"Oh…Marti," Casey cuddled her close again. "I wish it was that simple. But hey – we'll phone, and visit, and – and before you know it, I'll be home again."

"I'm still going to miss you," Marti informed her.

Casey rested her head on top of Marti's. "I know. I'm going to miss you too. But – you want to hear a secret? It's kind of nice to know someone's going to miss me."

Outside the door, Edwin listened.

*****

"Write a nice speech about Casey – um, _why_?" Derek asked.

Nora sighed. "Edwin overheard her talking to Marti this evening. Turns out the reason she's been acting so strange lately is because" –

"She's Casey?"

Nora glared. "Because she doesn't think anyone's going to miss her when she goes. So – we're throwing an Adios Casey party tomorrow, to show her how much we care."

"Yeah? So? Still not seeing the need to write a speech…unless this is some kind of black tie bon voyage."

"Well…" Nora hedged.

"You're kidding me," he said flatly.

"You could wing it, but I know how much you like to be prepared." With a hopeful air she held out the pad and pen. Her shoulders slumped when he made no move to take them from her. "Derek – Casey's _leaving_ soon. Don't you think you could put aside your differences for _one_ night and at least pretend to be happy for her?"

"No," he said. It wasn't the usual 'being stubborn about Casey' tone. It was serious, honest. At her stunned look, he said, quickly, "It's – like you always say. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

"Well, here's a new piece of advice. Write something nice about Casey."

"Or…?" he said.

"There is no 'or'," she said, pushing the pad and pen at his chest. "So I'd get on that, if I were you."

*****

The second time the bell rang, Casey thumped her way downstairs, casting a disgusted look at Derek, who was sitting on the couch and flicking through television channels with a frown on his face.

She opened the door. "Max," she said. Derek looked up.

"Hey," Max said.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, confused. "I mean – I wasn't expecting to see you this evening."

"Yeah, well, Emily caught up with me after practice, and we had a talk, and…I wanted to give you this."

He held out a teddy bear wearing a red sombrero. Casey laughed in surprise as she took it.

Max put his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. "Maybe I've been focusing a little too much on the bright side of this whole Spain thing…and maybe I need to let you know that – I see the downside too."

"You mean there's a downside to your long term girlfriend leaving for six months?" Casey asked softly.

" _Major_ downside," he agreed with a smile.

*****

It was when Casey was sitting on her bed, still holding Max's gift in her hands, that Derek strolled in – as per usual, without knocking. But before she had a chance to take him to task for that, he jerked his head at her and the teddy, and said, "So…you and Pedro Bear still going to Spain?"

She swallowed, but said, completely nailing the requisite surprised delivery, "Of course. Why wouldn't I still be going?"

He shrugged. "No reason. Just – for someone who's getting an all-expenses paid extended vacation to Spain…you're not exactly doing the Cucaracha."

She got to her feet and started sorting through the books on top of her bedside locker. "So, what? Just because I'm not making a big deal about it, you think I'm not happy?"

"No," Derek said. "I _know_ you're not happy."

"What? That's…" She turned and looked at him. "Okay, fine – maybe I was a little apprehensive about leaving when I thought my boyfriend wasn't going to miss me, but now" –

"But now that you know that Max cares, you're suddenly cool with the six month leave of absence?" Derek's tone was disbelieving.

"You think I'm lying?"

"I think it's obvious that Max isn't the reason you're dragging your feet."

Casey shook her head. "You are unbelievable. Max is a huge part of my life and" –

Derek took a step closer to her and said, in a low, insinuating voice. "Casey. We both know you're only dating Max because he's the human equivalent of an 'I'm with stupid' T-shirt."

Casey crossed her arms, but didn't deny it, or move away. In fact, she took a step forward, making the gap between them even smaller. "Right. I forgot, you're the authority on _everything_ , including me. Well, why don't you enlighten me? Go on, tell me. In your _expert_ opinion, why don't I want to go to Spain?"

Derek looked at her for a long moment, before stepping back. But Casey barely had a second to enjoy her triumph before Derek picked Sombrero Bear off the bed, and said, in a disinterested voice, "I think…with divorced parents – there's always a choice."

Casey took a deep breath in. "Maybe in your dysfunctional world," she said, finally.

"No," he said, not rising to the bait. "I think there's always a choice."

"Not for me," she said.

"Or maybe you just haven't made it yet," Derek said.

He tossed Sombrero Bear back onto the bed, and walked out.

*****

The next day, when she came home from school, she was still wrapped up in her own thoughts, and she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until she heard her Dad saying, in a hushed voice, "Hey – hey, there she is – there she is!"

She looked up, partway through shrugging off her jacket, to see her family, biological and step, crowded around the dining room table, and dressed in formalwear. Well, except for Derek.

"What's this?" she asked.

Nora looked at George, "It's – uh – it's an Adios Casey party. To show how much we're going to miss you."

Casey smiled, touched. "Really?"

"Yeah – so now you can be happy about moving to Spain!" Edwin said.

Casey's smile seemed to freeze. "Right. Happy."

He gestured her to a chair and said, "Sit down and make yourself comfortable – we're going to start with the speeches!"

He cleared his throat and began, in a deeper voice than normal, "I'm going to begin by saying – you couldn't ask for a better sister than Casey. She's smart, and responsible and…firm but fair. In fact – I believe it's Casey's influence that has turned me into the man I am today."

"Nice try, Ed," Casey said, "But you're still not getting my room."

"In that case – Lizzie McDonald, everyone!"

Lizzie stood. "I just want to say…I'm going to miss you, Casey. I was just getting used to having a big sister."

The corners of Casey's mouth tugged upwards.

When Lizzie sat down, Nora cleared her throat and began, "I have to say I've learned a lot from living with Casey. I mean – not that I never drew up laundry schedules or shopping lists before…but she showed me where I was going wrong, and I learned a lot of valuable lessons. Actually," she confided, "I'm a little scared of striking out on my own now…so I hope you don't mind frequent phone calls?"

Casey shook her head. "Not at all, Nora." They smiled at each other.

George took his turn next. "Casey's always been the organized one in the family," he said. "And it's not going to be easy without her." He came out from behind the table to stand in front of her, "As a matter of fact, today I went out and bought" –

"A personal organizer?" Casey asked, as he pulled the small book from his pants pocket.

"And that's not all – look at the first important event I've marked."

Casey flicked through the book, and stopped at the date George had marked in pen. "Six months time. That's…when I'm coming home." She looked up at her dad.

"We'll all be counting the days," he assured her.

She got to her feet and hugged him.

"I don't want Casey to go," Marti said suddenly. "Please, Casey," she hopped up from her chair and ran over to Casey and George. "I'll be really good if you stay."

Casey bent down and put her arms around Marti, and there was a silence as everyone watched them.

"Hey – let's lighten up," Edwin said. He looked around the table for a suitable distraction. And found one. "Derek! You haven't given a speech."

"Oh, this I've got to hear," Casey said, sitting back down on her chair, and pulling Marti into her lap. She raised her eyebrows at him.

Slowly, Derek stood. "So. Spain," he said.

"Spain," she agreed.

"Good luck with that," he said, and sat. But Nora, fixed smile on her face, reached out and poked him in the side, forcing him to stand again.

"Spain," he said again.

Casey nodded. "Spain."

"You're - really going."

She held his gaze.

"In that case…I guess…I should," he said, words coming out slowly, like each one weighed a tonne.

Casey frowned and sat forward, eyes intent on his.

"That is…I should probably…say – that…I" –

The spell was broken by the doorbell.

"I – uh…I'll get it," Casey said, ushering Marti off her lap, and jerkily getting to her feet.

"Hey everyone – sorry I'm late," Abby called as soon as the door opened. She kissed Casey on the cheek. "Hey sweetie."

"Actually mom – you're just on time," Casey said, as she looked over her shoulder at the rest of her family. "Can…I talk to you – in private?"

"Sure, sweetie, but don't you want" –

"It'll just take a minute," Casey promised.

*****

Inside the kitchen, Abby watched as Casey paced up and down.

"So – what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked.

"Why do you want me to go to Spain?" Casey blurted, turning to face her.

Abby frowned. "Casey – we've talked about this. George and I feel that you're working too hard and" –

"And you don't think I can handle it? Is that it?"

"What? No. _No_. We just feel that you're stressed and overloaded."

"Well – maybe I like being stressed and overloaded!"

Abby tilted her head. "Casey – what's this about? Really?"

She looked at her mom. "I think...we need to be totally honest with each other," she said slowly.

Abby nodded. "Okay."

"Why do you want me to go to Spain?" Casey asked again.

Her mom's eyes swept over her face, and Abby said, words careful and cautious, "I've been…so busy lately, with the PhD, and – and I haven't seen you as much, and…I miss you. And you – you seem to be doing so well without me."

"But that doesn't mean I don't miss you," Casey said. "And it doesn't mean that I don't want to spend more time with you, but…" she bit her lip, "…I don't want to have to go to Spain to do that."

Abby went very still. "You don't want to go to Spain," she said.

Casey just barely shook her head. "I'm sorry."

Abby tried to smile. "Don't be sorry. It's – understandable." She took Casey's hand in hers and said, "How about this? We both take a step back and stop working so hard, and make some time for what's really important?"

"Sounds like a good idea," Casey said. She straightened as a thought struck her, "Plus it'll kill Derek if I get good grades and it looks like I'm not even trying."

Abby raised her eyebrows and Casey cleared her throat, and returned to the subject at hand, "But yeah, I could take a step back."

"Good," Abby said. "Then…everything's decided. I should – go and tell your dad the good news." She squeezed Casey's hand once, then let go.

"Mom?" Casey asked.

Palm on the sliding door, Abby turned around, somehow managing to look right at Casey without meeting her eyes. "Yes?"

"Thanks," Casey said.

*****

A few minutes later, when Derek strolled into the kitchen, Casey was still in the same spot, leaning on the kitchen table.

"The party's on pause," Derek said, as he passed her. He opened the fridge and took out a can of coke. "Your mom and dad are talking about something."

"They're probably talking about Spain." Casey had to look away from his questioning eyes. "I decided not to go after all."

Derek took this in in silence. "And how did that go?" he asked, eventually.

"Pretty well, actually," she said. "Mom understood, and we talked about it, and everything worked out okay, I think." She paused, and her mouth twisted. "Except…it was still a choice."

"Yeah," Derek said. An acknowledgment.

Casey breathed in and out. She forced herself to smile, and in a determinedly upbeat voice, she said, "So. What were you going to say? You know, before…" she trailed off, uncertain.

Slowly, he said, "I was – I was just going to say…Bon Voyage."

She held his gaze until, suddenly, she got it. "Yeah," she said softly. She ducked her head and smiled down at the table.

*****

The next day at school, and everything was back to normal. Well…almost.

"Here."

Casey looked up from her locker, and frowned as she took the brown envelope Derek was offering. "What is it?"

"An advance copy of the school paper," he said. "And a peace offering. Turn to the poetry column."

"You had my poem published?" She stared at him, eyes wide. "Derek – thank you."

Derek shrugged.

Casey's gratitude lasted until she flipped the paper over to read the back page. Then, in a tight voice, she said, "You published my poem…with a line by line analysis of its _flaws_?"

"Well yeah," Derek said, as if it was obvious. "I mean – it's not like I could include it on merit. The paper has a little thing I like to call, 'literary standards.'" He clapped her shoulder as he moved past. "See you later."

Casey took two deep, angry breaths before swiveling on her heel, and charging after him.

*****

"So she's _not_ going to Spain?" Paul asked.

"Like there was ever any doubt," Derek said. "I told you – it was typical Casey, a freak out over nothing."

"Actually, I thought you said" –

"I mean – this tortured 'Will I go to Spain?' 'Won't I go to Spain?' – vintage Casey." He snorted. "You wouldn't catch me acting like that if someone offered me a six month vacation."

"Well, I'm glad it all worked out for her. In the end," Paul said.

Derek shrugged. "So – problem solved…let's get it off the table and move on." He made brushing motions with his hands. "Okay, so this morning, I give Casey an advance copy of" –

He stopped.

"Is something wrong?" Paul asked.

"No," Derek said. "I just – I thought you'd want to talk more about – you know, Casey not going to Spain - and my _'feelings'_." He made a face.

"Well," Paul said, "Sometimes it is important to discuss your feelings, talk them through, figure them out." He took Derek in, sitting across the desk, body loose and relaxed, and the expression on his face one of superficial frustration.

"And sometimes," he finished, "I don't think you _need_ to talk about them."

"Exactly!" Derek said. "So, this morning, I give Casey an advance copy of…"

Paul sat back in his chair, and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was only going to be one more chapter in this story - Derek was going to be valedictorian and struggle with his speech (being all glib and flippant), and due to Casey's influence was actually going to get up there and FINALLY say something sincere that would basically be all about Casey in disguise. And there was going to be a lot of growing up/'college is a new beginning' talk. Cue hopeful ending/beginning for Casey/Derek. Wish I'd finished it, actually :/


End file.
